


sick of us

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Banter, M/M, Minor Injuries, Neighbors, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 33,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mickey Milkovich has a crush on his balcony neighbour.Incompleted.Original work by user mikhailo.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the first time in seven years since moving into his apartment that Mickey had ever spoke to his next door neighbour.

Actually, _next door neighbour_ wasn't quite the word he'd use.

The layout of the buildings were strange; the compound had two apartment blocks pressed up against each other, simply known as Block A and Block B.

Mickey lived in Block B with his balcony right next to his neighbour's balcony, but his neighbour lived in Block A.

They don't see each other on their way out to work, nor do they see each other on their way home from work.

The only instance that they do see each other is if they're out in their balconies doing whatever it is they wanna do.

So basically, they were balcony neighbours.

The first time Mickey saw his balcony neighbour, Ian (he soon found out after years of involuntary eavesdropping) was when Ian first moved into his apartment.

It was one of those awkward, accidental eye contact things; but Ian was nice enough to offer up a small smile. Mickey didn't know how to respond to that, so he just scrambled back inside.

Seemed rude, Mickey thought in retrospect, but Ian was just his damn type.

Cute, but not overly so. Maybe handsome was the word? Sexy? Definitely. Ian was just physically attractive, Mickey decided in the two seconds their eyes met.

Mickey did not expect to see that when he saw moving trucks out front.

Then there was the countless times Mickey and Ian went out into their balconies for a smoke.

 _Cool_ , Mickey thought. _Something in common_. But every time either one of them went out for a smoke, the other was occupied by either a book, or a phone or some company.

The next time Mickey saw Ian was on a New Year's Eve one yearー Ian had brought someone home with him and fucked him out on the balcony.

Two things Mickey got out of that impromptu live sex show: one, Ian was gay. And two: Ian looked like he was good at sex.

Okay, maybe three things: Mickey got a big fat boner.

Sure, Mickey was slightly jealous he wasn't the one being fucked out on the balcony by his hot as fuck balcony neighbour, but the thing that made him okay about it was that he never saw the guy Ian was having sex with ever again.

A one night stand, Mickey deduced.

And Mickey had the pleasure of seeing the pale skinned, freckle faced, alien looking carrot top almost every day.

So who _really_ won?

Maybe not Mickey, but today was the day he felt his non-existing relationship with Ian grow from awkward side glances to a full fledged first time convo.

"Hey, you got a light?" Was the first thing Ian asked Mickey ever since moving into his apartment.

And Mickey wanted to play it off cooly, looking over at Ian with a confused face. "What?"

Ian made a smoking gesture before repeating, "A lighter."

Mickey looked down at his hand where he held his cigarette between tatted fingers, the stick burning into ashes. Instinctively, he said, "No, I used the sun's fucking rays to light this shit up."

Mickey immediately wanted to jump off the damn balcony. Why the fuck did he say that?

Ian just gave Mickey a surprised look, something not overly shocked, but a lowkey surprised look at the blatantly rude sarcasm; he turned on his heel, going back inside his apartment.

And Mickey could see it now: _Man Plunges to his Death from his Seventh Story Apartment Building out of Embarrassment. What a Fucking Loser._

He hung his head low over the rails of his balcony, ears, neck and cheeks burning out of embarrassment, mentally questioning God, " _Why am I a fucking menace?_ "

But before Mickey could start pulling his hair out, Ian returned barely a moment later. Mickey quickly composed himself, trying to look out of his balcony all stoic and shit, finishing his cigarette and throwing it over the rails.

"Think this'll work?" Ian suddenly asked. Mickey turned his head to him and sawー he saw the fucking nerd bring out a fucking _magnifying glass_.

Once Ian got Mickey's attention, he placed his own cigarette between his lips before angling the magnifying glass towards the sun that was setting.

Mickey rubbed his faceー ultimately rubbing away the smile that tugged at his lips, before walking across his balcony towards Ian. Shoving a hand down his pocket, he pulled out his lighter and offered it to Ian. "No, c'mon, look. You look like an idiot, I have a lighter."

Ian played around with the magnifying glass a second or two longer before placing it down on the table behind him. He gave Mickey a toothy grin, walking towards him.

Mickey knew their balcony's were close but not _this close_. They were less than arm's length away from each other, and if they wanted to (Mickey wanted to), they could just... _kiss_.

But nah, Ian just took Mickey's offered lighter and lit up his smoke. He handed it back, puffing out with a smile. "Thanks."

Mickey just raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

"I'm Ian, by the way." Ian said, pressing a hand against his chest.

_And I wanna suck your dick. Don't fucking care if I have to climb over these fucking rails to do it, don't fuckin' care if I slip and fall and fuckin' die, I wanna taste your big, fat, dick on my tongue; suck you off so good and hard, you see stars._

"Mickey." Mickey ended up saying, and rightfully so.

"Mickey." Ian tested out the name. He smiled. "Nice to finally and officially meet you, Mick."

A nickname! Already! Good lord, Mickey wanted to sit on his face!

But all he could do was grunt. He knew his cheeks were reddening, or he felt them heat up (this time, for a different reason, fuck you very much), so abruptly, he turned on his heel and retreated back into his apartment.

Ian stood in his balcony a little dumbstruck. "Huh." He said. "Weird."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any prompts/requests, feel free to send them [here](https://jollyroger.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments section! 
> 
> (Otherwise, this is the story I'll be working on for the time being!)


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey threw his head back with a breathless moan, keeping his balance steady as he fucked himself on tonight's one night stand. 

He thinks the guy's name is Jack, and well, if anything, the guy gave false advertisement in the club. But Mickey was too drunk and too tired to catch another fish, so Jack and his barely adequate dick will have to do. 

Aparently talking to Ian for the first time ever the other day was enough to rile Mickey the fuck up.

So he got all prettied and dressed up and prowled Boys Town to release his sexual frustrations.

Mickey was quite handsome. A specific kind of handsome, but nonetheless, a looker. He was capable of getting a guy to suck his dick while another guy compliments his hair all the while getting every other man in the room to fall in love with him. 

Or at least, the _idea_ of him.

He had that bad boy type about himー maybe it was just his face or the way he dressed or acted orー

Nevermind. 

He _was_ the bad boy type. 

 _Fuck u-up_ tattoo and all.

But he could be charming. He could be romantic and cutesy and all that gay shit. Clearly, he had enough flirt in his game that he could bring home barely adequate Jack.

Whatever. He knew how to make himself come. It was gonna take a while, given what he's got, but he can do it. 

Jack was sorta kinda hot, but fuck was he loud. 

And it wasn't the sexy loud eitherー he was moaning like a virgin pornstar squirming underneath Mickey as Mickey rode him into the mattress. It was kind of embarrassing and Mickey wanted to laugh, but his dick was straining and he just wanted a nice release.

_Just think of Ian, just think of Ian, just think of Ianー_

"Oh, fuck! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!" Jack shouted through gritted teeth. 

"No, no, no, please don't." Mickey gasped, knowing the typical tell tale signs of someone nearing their orgasm. 

Mickey was like, forty percent there (with his own hand tugging his dick to stay erect). And he knew that once this guy was done, that was it for the rest of the fucking night.

"Oh, Mickey! I'm gonna come! I'm gonna fucking come!" 

And usually, Mickey would stop bouncing on the guy's dick to stave off the orgasm; settle for a slow grind to stretch out the session longer, but this guy was _strong_. 

He gripped Mickey's hips tightly, slamming up into him with the speed of a jackhammer. And Mickey loved it roughー he loved rough sex. But this was just... sad.

Jack was hitting literally everywhere _besides_ his prostate; a waste of Jack's hidden talent. 

And then the guy stilled, filling the condom up with his shit. 

Mickey was pissed off. 

Not even letting the guy take a breather, he kicked him out of his apartment, slamming the door in his face, cutting him off just as he said, "Call me?" 

Like hell he would call five inches. 

Mickey needed a smoke. 

Wiping himself clean and putting on a pair of sweats, Mickey made his way out onto his balcony, appreciating the cool air against his heated skin. 

"Rough night?" 

Mickeg jumped at the sudden voice, turning his head to see Ian leaning his back against the railings of his balcony. 

"Fucking scared me." Mickey said, shoving his cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. 

Ian laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." Mickey grunted in response. Ian turned around, leaning his forearms against the railings now and Mickey didn't want to read too far into it but he could've _swore_ he saw Ian take a few subtle steps closer towards him. 

"What're you doing up?" Mickey asked, opting to look at the city skyline. 

"Couldn't sleep." Ian answered, staring at Mickey's profile.  

Jack's five inches couldn't make him come, but boy did Ian staring at him could. Mickey inhaled his smoke deeply. "Nightmare or some shit?" 

"Well, maybe." Ian said. "Guess you could call it that." 

Ian's tone made Mickey curious. He spared a quick glance, asking, "What's that mean?" 

"Well, I don't know." Ian shrugged, following Mickey's line of sight. "Dunno if you'd call hearing your cute neighbour getting fucked so badly by a premature ejaculator a nightmare." 

Mickey felt his cheeks heat up immediately, dropping his smoke from where it rested between his lips. "What?" Mickey asked, looking at Ian like a deer in headlights. 

Ian returned Mickey's look but with a languid smile. "He was kinda loud." 

And all of a sudden, Mickey thought back to what Mandy had told him when he decided to put his bed right near the balcony: 

" _You really want people hearing you have sex every single time?_ " 

He told her to fuck off but now, that's exactly what _he_ wanted to do. 

And then his mind flashed back to all the times he's brought a guy home and fucked them on his bed, wondering if this was the first time Ian's heard them or not.

Who fucking knows!

God, he was so stupid! So stupid and naive to believe that Ian wouldn't notice him just because they've never spoken before! 

"Sorry." Mickey managed to say, looking down over his balcony. Looks like a really nice night to just fall the fuck off. 

Ian laughed again, "No don't be. It's fine. Kinda. I'm kinda jealous." 

"You are?" And Mickey hated how hopeful he sounded, but damn he was right now. 

Ian nodded before holding onto the railings of his balcony and leaning back. "Yeah, I mean, who wouldn't be? I, personally, would love to get fucked so good, I moan like a pornstar." He teased. 

Mickey grew immediately disappointed but managed a chuckle. "Fuck you." 

"Sure. You busy?" Ian quipped. 

Mickey was so grateful it was dark out otherwise Ian would've _definitely_ see how red his face was. 

"Kidding." Ian said after Mickey failed to reply within five seconds. Mickey mentally berated himself as Ian stood up straight. 

_Stop looking into it, stop looking into it, stop looking into itー_

"Not that this is a complaint or anything, but I'd rather hear you moaning than the guys you bring home." Ian confessed. "Goodnight, Mickey." And with that, Ian retreated into his apartment. 

Mickey could've died right then and there, turning around and stumbling back inside his own apartment.

God, he was so drunk.


	3. Chapter 3

"He called me cute." Was the first thing Mickey said as he shot up from his slumber and woke up in the middle of the night later that night.

His head was dizzy from getting up too fast but once his mind and body were in sync, he checked the time.

12:02 A.M.

"What the fuck." He whispered, closing his eyes and falling back against his pillows. But he couldn't go back to sleep.

So instead, his mind replayed the words: _cute neighbour, cute neighbour, cute neighbour, cute neighbour..._

Surely, Ian was talking about Mickey, right? There were no other neighbours with balconies as close as his, and he was _pretty sure_ Mickey was the only one Ian could've heard having sex just a little over an hour ago, right?

But Mickey wasn't cute.

Yes, he had the capability of being cuteー or rather _acting_ it, but Mickey himself wasn't cute. He was far from it, he believed.

Cute was for someone who brings out magnifying glasses out, just causally whipping that shit outta nowhere, trying to use the sun's rays to light up his cigarette as per suggestion by a grumpy balcony neighbour.

Cute was for someone like Ian.

Ian was cute, not Mickey.

Ian was also hot and sexy and beautiful and stunning and amazing and handsome andー

Shit.

Okay, Mickey wasn't oblivious; he knew he had a big, fat, juicy crush on Ian no-last-name, but never in the seven years since its been slowly roasting in the oven did it ever culminate to him fucking waking up in the middle of the night thinking about what he said.

And the more Mickey thinks about what Ian saidー what Ian called himー the more Mickey believes he just made it up all in his mind.

He wasn't cute, pfft. No.

Not Mickey.

No way.

And that much became more evident when Mickey woke up the next morning with a killer hangover.

His first instinct was to go to the bathroom; the urge to vomit very strong, which was strange because he never felt like vomiting after waking up from a not-bender.

But he felt like he had to anyway.

But he didn't. He hated vomiting and wanted to avoid it at all costs.

So he went out into his balcony, hoping some fresh air would do him some good.

"Morning neighbour!" Mickey was immediately greeted by a cheerful Ian who sat out on his balcony chair, eating breakfast.

"Oh, fuck." Mickey muttered under his breath, leaning his wrists against the rails as he bent his body over, trying to swallow down the feeling. Something definitely surged up and this time, it wasn't his dick.

"Oooh, yikes." Ian said, getting up from his seat and heading right over towards where his and Mickey's balcony almost meet. "You okay?"

_No, I'm not okay. Do I fucking look okay to you, you perfect piece of shit! How fucking dare you dazzle me with your perfect face and your perfect eyes and that fucking tight t-shirt hugging that perfectly perfect chiselled chest of yours!_

Mickey felt like if he just so much as opened his mouth right then, he would puke, so he settled for flipping Ian off instead.

Ian laughed. "Stay put, tough guy." And then Mickey heard Ian's balcony door open and close.

Mickey inhaled shakily, swallowing his saliva as he stood upright, eyes closed and mind focusing on not vomiting.

When Ian returned, that's when Mickey opened his eyes.

Ian walked back to where their balconies almost met, handing something over for Mickey to have. "Here."

Mickey squinted. "Fuck's that?"

"It's a lemon." Ian said. And shit, it was, all cut up perfectly for Mickey to have.

But Mickey was suspicious. "Fuck am I gonna do with a lemon?" He asked, walking closer to Ian until they were finally back at arm's length. And suddenly, the urge to puke returned. Mickey grimaced.

"You suck on it," Ian informed, his expression hardening when Mickey held onto the rails again and bent over to stave off the urge.

"Rather suck on your dick." Mickey groaned out; and fuck, he would seriously jump off the balcony for letting that slip out but he rather let _that_ slip out than the impending vomit. In a way, it was less embarrassing, but still.

Luckily, Ian played it off. "Maybe next time, but right now, have this. It'll help you, I promise."

Mickey looked up, seeing the earnest and gentle expression Ian wore on his face before looking at the lemon he had in his hand. Begrudgingly, he took it and instinctively sniffed it.

He then poked his tongue out, licking it tentatively. His face scrunched up. "It's sour."

"No shit, it's a lemon." Ian laughed.

"Bet your dick tastes better," Mickey countered.

"You wouldn't be wrong there." Ian replied playfully. He then smiled. "C'mon. Suck on it, you'll feel better."

God, Mickey wished these innuendos were said under a different context, under a different circumstance.

But why would anything go well for him!

Mickey looked at the lemon distastefully before looking back up at Ian. "I swear to fucking God, if you're lying to me, I'll fucking projectile vomit onto you and your fucking balcony for days." He threatened.

"And I'll gladly take it," Ian said smugly. "But that won't happen; just suck on it."

"You suck on it," Mickey muttered petulantly as he brought the lemon to his lips, reluctantly sucking up the juice before grimacing and pulling it away. "Ah, fuck."

"You feel a little bit better?" Ian asked, voice full of genuine concern.

Mickey didn't answer; instead, he just brought the sour shit back to his mouth and proceeded to, well, suck the shit out of it.

Ian laughed. "See? Wasn't lying."

Once it got too sour, Mickey stopped. "Whatever."

"You're welcome." Ian said.

"You want this back?" Mickey asked, handing the lemon back over. Ian shook his head.

"You should keep it for next time." He teased.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Where'd you learn this?" He asked. "I mean, how'd you know it would help?"

Ian shrugged, suddenly looking shy. "I'm an EMT. Picked up a couple things here and there to help patients, especially drunk ones. Don't really want them vomiting all over the place while we transport them so..."

"Huh." Mickey said. "An EMT."

"Yeah."

Mickey hummed. "Guess you look like the type."

"And what are you?" Ian asked, leaning his forearms on the rails. Why the fuck did he look so beautiful so damn early in the fucking morning?

Mickey scowled. "I'm late." He said, tossing the lemon over the edge of the balcony before retreating back into his apartment.

Ian was yet again left in his balcony dumbstruck, but this time, somewhat in awe. "Interesting." He hummed with a smile, returning to his breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

An EMT.

Of fucking _course_ , Ian was an EMT!

Why _wouldn't he be_ a fucking EMT!

Just when Mickey thought Ian couldn't get any better, he does, telling him he's a _fucking EMT._

Not only was Ian physically attractive in all aspects of the word, he was smart too! At least, smart enough to be an _E-fucking-MT._

And no one was out of Mickey's leagueー _no one_. Mickey was attractive to any gay man and straight girlー at least physically (because Mickey sure damn knows well his personality's a huge turn off for those looking for love), no exceptions.

Except for this one.

Ian no-last-name EMT assumed sex machine.

Mickey may have been a little in over his head when he believed that sure, if he tried _really_ hard like he did in the clubs for a quick lay, he could _definitely_ catch Ian.

But nope. The fucker just had to be in a well respected position in society!

Ian also may have been slightly out of Mickey's league, but this news just bumped Ian up into his own fucking level. Mickey had no chance anymore if ever there was one to begin with!

The fucking luck!

Groaning into his pillow (moderately soft since he was now hyper-aware that Ian could in fact, hear what goes down at least on this side of his apartment), Mickey threw a little temper tantrum.

He then flipped onto his back, staring at the plain white ceiling.

It wasn't like Mickey wasn't well off. He was. He was twenty-five years old with a stable job and a good pay check that came with being a chef.

A chef.

Mickey was a _fucking chef_ and even he didn't know about that vomit cure lemon bullshit (that wasn't actually bullshit since it stopped him from vomiting), which was somewhat insulting.

But then again, he was a patisserie chef, not a _real_ chef.

He just blows people's minds with his desserts the same way he blows people's mind with his killer ass.

He hasn't had a good fuck in years.

He wondered if Ian would be the first guy in a long time.

But then his mind circled back to his earlier inner turmoilー Ian was officially out of his league.

Turning his head to the side to face the glass of the balcony door (more like a glass wall with a sliding door to enter the balcony), Mickey wondered if Ian was still outside eating his goodie good good EMT power breakfast shit.

He lied about being late to work. Or late in general. For anything. He just wanted to not be there in the presence of _God's Human Guardian Angels_.

His shift didn't start till five at the restaurant anyway, and it was barely ten a.m., so he had time to kill.

Usually, he'd power on his x-box and play some video games, or masturbate when he was bored.

And Mickey, whenever he wasn't at work or in Boys Town, was _always_ bored.

With an exaggerated sigh, he slowly snaked his hand down his body. It was less effort to masturbate and sometimes, if life wanted to be generous to him, he'd be satisfied at the end. Video games just made him pissed offー he'd end up masturbating afterwards anyway.

Grabbing onto the shaft, he tugged himself a few times under his sweats, grimacing when he wasn't really feeling it.

Rolling his eyes, he retracted his hand and lifted his hips, pushing his sweats down to the end of his thighs.

He then shuffled around his bed, getting comfortable before stroking his dick again.

It helped that eventually he realised he needed some lube to get the gears going, and after a while, he was finally hard, moaning and writhing in the sheets.

It felt good; he liked pleasuring himself, learning more and more about what he liked and didn't like, but after being in the game for so long, he knew that unless he had a dildo or some kind of vibrator up his ass, he wouldn't come.

Damn him and his libido.

At this point, it was uselessー he did have a few toys laying around his apartment, but if he stopped what he was doing to go and fetch them, he knew he wouldn't be in the mood to continue, and he'd just give up on getting off.

Well, it was worth a shot, coming just like this. Ain't like he had anything to lose but time.

His sweats had long gone been kicked off his legs as he used his slicked up fingers to play with his ass, dipping in two fingers in search for that bundle of nerves.

Mickey gasped once he found it, stroking his dick faster as his other hand rubbed against his prostate.

A babbling mess he was, and he cursed himself for not having thicker and longer fingers.

But he was close.

He can feel the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

A few more strong strokes and he was thereー

"Fuck!" He shouted once he heard a loud thud right outside his balcony. Whatever it was, it crash against the metal chairs, pulling Mickey out of his concentration and into a mood of frustration.

Breathing heavily, he turned his head to see what the commotion was outside.

And sitting up, he can not _believe_ what the fuck he saw sitting in the middle of his balcony.

It was a bag of _fucking lemons._

Wiping away the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, Mickey hastily crawled to the end of his bed (not caring that his soaked fingers or softening dick was smearing all over the sheets) to go fetch his sweats.

Putting them on with a grimace, he climbed off the bed and headed out into the balcony.

Instinctively, he turned to look in the direction of Ian's balcony, but the redheaded EMT super model motherfucker was nowhere to be seen.

Inhaling deeply, he looked down at the bag of lemons which had a note attracted to it.

It said: _for next time :) just in case!_

Mickey picked up the bag reluctantly, carrying it back inside, hating that this interruption made him smile like an idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, you know what they say," Mandy began, inspecting the lemon note. She usually dropped by an hour or two before Mickey's shift and they'd go to work together since she tended at the bar at the restaurant where Mickey worked.

"No, Mandy. I don't know what they fucking say." He said, slicking back his freshly washed hair. He showered after he tried to get off and aired out the apartment before Mandy showed up like clockwork.

She still commented on how the place smelt a little musky, but Mickey managed to distract his sister with the bag of fucking lemons he received.

"Well, they say that when life gives you lemons," She paused for dramatic effect, "You go over to the guy's apartment and fuck his brains out."

Mickey rolled his eyes, "That's not how the fucking saying goes."

"Well, no shit." She said, putting the note down. "You gonna make lemonade with this? Or are you gonna shove them up your ass?"

"Fuck off." Mickey retorted.

Oh, how he wanted a smoke, but that meant going outside. And with this strange development, he wasn't sure if he could handle seeing Ian again twice in a day.

He was so satisfied with the shitty, awkward, no dialogue side glances they had going on for seven years, but now that they actually _converse_ (if that's what's going on between them), Mickey became super self conscious about almost everything.

Mandy had the same thought, though. "I'm gonna go for a smoke." She said, getting up from the couch and heading towards the balcony. "Maybe see this mystery lemon man!"

Mickey immediately shot up from his seat.

He watched Mandy as she opened the glass door and stepped outside.

No way Ian would still be at home, let alone in his balcony in this given time, right?

"Hey!" Mandy said, looking right where Ian's balcony was.

Of fucking _course_ he was there! But didn't the fucker have lives to save?

"Hey." He heard Ian reply and Mickey saw the sly smile on Mandy's faceー the kind of smile that indicated the bitch of a little sister was up to no good.

"You're cute!" She blatantly said and Mickey felt his stomach drop into his ass.

"Oh, uh, thank you?" Came Ian's confused reply, but even Mickey knew he was smiling at that compliment.

"Yeah, you think so, right?" Mandy said in a flirtatious tone. "My brother thinks so too, he has this _huge_ fucking boー"

Mickey crashed his shin against the corner of the coffee table as he forcibly made his way over to Mandy, pulling the diabolical bitch inside, and sliding the balcony shut.

He was fuming and in pain.

"What the fuck, Mandy!" He hissed, ignoring the throbbing in his shin. That was gonna leave a fuckin' bruise.

" _You_ what the fuck!" She hissed back, shoving her brother back. "I was talking to him, you fucker! He's hot! But you knew that already, didn't you, you greedy cunt!"

"Shut up," he said, rubbing his face. He turned to walk further inside the apartment; heart beating hard against his chest.

"You fucking gay boy, you're blushing!" Mandy said, amused. "Big ass boner for lemon man, huh?"

"His name is Ian, okay?" Mickey sighed, falling back onto the couch. "He's an EMT."

"Oh, that explains the uniform." Mandy said, looking outside the balcony.

"He was in his uniform?" Mickey found himself asking.

Mandy smirked. "Wouldn't you like to fucking know." She said. Mickey flipped her off. "Anyways, why the lemons?"

Mickey never really liked talking about his sexual escapades or crushes or shit with Mandy, or _anyone_ for that matter. But somehow, he managed to tell her about Ianー or balcony neighbour, he introduced to her as (since he didn't want her to know that he knew his name despite never talking to the guy before).

He often passed Ian off as "alright" and "average" looking; he knew if he was being honest with her, she would've ruined everything by doing what she just did, but before he and Ian spoke which could've ruined them ever speaking in the first place!

And so he wasn't quite sure what prompted Mandy to actively seek out mystery lemon Ian manー lemon Ian, EMT redheadedー whatever.

But then again, if Mandy had a neighbour that just randomly threw lemons across balconies, he'd automatically be interested in that too.

Mickey sighed. "Long story."

It wasn't, actually. He just didn't want to tell her that Ian saved him from vomiting all over the fucking place with his magical lemon spell. That, and he knew he wouldn't be able to tell the story without smiling or blushing or getting a giddy feeling in his chest at the memoryー Mickey loved getting it in the ass; he didn't wanna sound anymore gayer than that.

Mandy, albeit reluctantly, accepted that answer, moving back towards the couches to inspect the lemon letter again. "Nice hand writing." She commented. "And he should've thrown over apples or some shit, since he's a redhead and not blond."

Oh, if only Mandy knew. 

(She never will because Mickey won't tell her). 

"For next time, just in case." She read out before her eyebrows drew together. "For next time..." 

"You won't get it." Mickey said, a little smugly if anything. 

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Well, no fucking shit. This is so cryptic! For next time? What the fuck are you gonna use lemons for next time! Is that some fucking gay euphemism or something?"

"Well, when life gives you lemons, you shut the fuck up." Mickey said. 

Mandy threw a couch pillow at him. "So, you planning on banging him?" 

"What's it to you?" 

She shrugged nonchalantly. "If you are, do it in his apartment. He'll know you've been jerking off to him in here." She gestured at the air around her, scrunching her nose.

Mickey wanted to throw the fucking bag of lemons at her. 


	6. Chapter 6

The idea came to him one night after his shift.

The lemons that were left on the coffee table untouched alway greeted him ever since it made itself at home (somehow, Mickey felt weird moving them). He wasn't sure what to do with them in the four days it's been sitting there, and he didn't have the heart to throw them away.

They were quality lemons to be honest, so he just left it there.

After the throwing of the gift, Mickey just so conveniently had been too busy at work to bother with going out into the balcony.

Correlation?

There was none.

But Mickey made the excuse for himself that he was too tired to make the extra steps to slide open the door, step out into the balcony and smoke. That, or he smokes before going up inside, or he just smokes in his apartment (which he was certain was forbidden, but it wasn't like the landlord came knocking every single day to enforce that).

Basically, Mickey was avoiding the possibility of seeing Ian.

Why?

Fucking lemons, that's why.

Or maybe it was just the thought of _okay, so he's heard me bring guys home and have sex with them and Mandy's pretty much embarrassed the fuck out of me more than I've embarrassed myself so far, so..._

But then again, there was that time Mickey accidentally caught Ian fucking a guy out on his balcony, so in a way, they were kinda even, except that Ian doesn't know Mickey saw that so, _were_ they really even?

_Hey, remember that one year you fucked a guy on your balcony? Yeah, I saw that. I've also jerked off to it a few times before the memory became a vivid dream, but hey, the thought, right?_

Mickey supposed it was the unknown; the vulnerability of him being exposed to Ian of such intimate acts. It just made him question how long Ian's noticed him or if it was just their first conversation Ian bothered to look.

God knows Mickey's been looking at Ian since the start.

It was a silly little crush he had on his cute next door balcony neighbourー he was truly content with it not going any further than that.

But now he's actually _learning_ things about Ian through conversation instead of observations. They both formally acknowledge each other.

It was weird, but at the same time, Mickey can't help but think maybe it could be something more.

Maybe.

He'll have to see after he's given Ian what he's made.

Mickey was in the kitchen, bag of lemons on the counter with the oven being preheated. He was whisking up some shit to make a lemon tart for Ian as some kind of gift that said, " _Yo hey, I know we don't actually have some sort of schedule here and that we both have lives to live and being on the balcony every day to talk isn't a thing, but I made you something with the shit you threw the other day._ "

Ah, this was stupid, but Mickey's heart still beat fast; chest blooming with warmth at the thought of seeing Ian's expression when he gives the tarts.

Ian looked like the type to get overly emotional and happy over mediocre shit like this and it gave Mickey a giddy feeling inside.

It wasn't until he prepared everything and all he had to do was wait for the thing to cook did a sickening feeling in his gut emerged.

What if he doesn't like it?

What if he doesn't want it?

What if he doesn't come out onto the balcony?

What if, what if, what if.

Squatting down in his kitchen watching the tarts cook, he sighed, feeling queasy at the thought.

He quickly glanced up where he still had a shitload of lemons sitting on the counter and thought back to Ian's damn lemon cure.

He knew he wasn't going to vomit, but he did feel sick and so he thought _why not?_ Standing, he retrieved a knife, a lemon and decided to cut it up.

Bringing a sour slice up to his lips, he sucked on it for about a second before throwing it into the sink. "Fuck." He grimaced, automatically crossing the kitchen towards the fridge.

He got himself a beer.

And somehow also got himself out onto the balcony.

"Hey," Ian greeted as soon as Mickey registered that he ended up in the balcony. "Haven't seen you in a few days."

Mickey brought his beer up to his lips, making himself look busy as his mind scrambled for reasons to not jump off the building.

 _How the fuck_ , he mentally asked himself as moved to lean against the rails, trying to seem like he was meant to come out here instead of it being some kind of natural response.

He had been so good at avoiding Ian! What the hell!

"Been busy." Mickey said. Ian nodded, walking towards Mickey's balcony.

He leaned on his rails on his forearms. "Yeah. Been lonely out here without you." He laughed.

_Ooooh, shit the fuck down fucking mother shit._

Mickey just huffed.

Ian continued, "So, how've you been? Did you like the gift I sent you?" He asked, lips curling at the end of that. Mickey allowed himself a quick glance at that before staring back down at his beer.

"Fuckin' weird." Mickey commented, willing himself to not blush at the memory of how happy he was when he received the lemons. It was actually the note he was happy with but still.

"I thought it was cute." Ian said. "Our little lemon thing. Sweet, actually. Well, not actually sweet, lemons are sour, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Our.

Mickey was stuck on the word _our._

He wanted to punch Ian's dorky face in the mouth with his lips, very softly.

"So, did ya use them?" Ian soon asked.

Mickey turned his head to look at the redhead. "Yeah."

Ian stood up straight, clearly not expecting that answer before hunching his shoulders back down. "Aw, really? Did you go on some more benders?"

"I'm actually making something for you." And the words slip out clear as day before Mickey could even stop himself. He stood up straight, mind scrambling something to save his ass, "I mean, I'm makingー _using_ the lemons you gave me to make youー _me_ ー my sisterー"

Obviously, his blabber didn't register in Ian's head. "You're making me something?" He whispered, smiling gently with his cheeks reddening.

"No!" Mickey quickly denied (it was useless).

"You are, you're making me something." Ian repeated, unable to wipe his fucking dazzling smile away.

"I gottaー" And Mickey stops himself from saying anymore, deciding he didn't need to explain where he was going before retreating his embarrassed ass back inside.

"No, Mick, come back!" Ian shouted but it was too late; he heard Mickey's balcony door close and lock shut.

Ian stood in his balcony, unsure of what to do. He was flustered and upset at the same time, hoping that the four days he hasn't seen Mickey doesn't turn into four weeks or worse.


	7. Chapter 7

Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid mother fucker! So stupid!

Mickey looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, tap running and hands gripping the marble of the sink. His face was dripping wet with water; cheeks seeming to not cool down from the embarrassment.

He felt conflicted as his mind relayed everything that happened like a minute ago.

There were several other ways he could've responded to Ian, they were as follows:

  1. "I am. I am actually making you something in hopes I could someday suck your dick."
  2. "I am. I'm making you lemon tarts from the lemons you gave me. Oh, me? I'm a chef, a patisserie chef so I can sure whip you up some mother fucking desserts!"
  3. "I am. I'm making you lemon tarts as a thanks for helping me with the vomit situation the other day. We should date."
  4. "I'm making you tarts cause I have a big ass crush on you. Oops."



Okay, maybe less risky replies would've been okay, in fact, maybe even just taking the teasing that Ian was inevitably going to put him through would've been okay too! (Ian looked like the type who liked to teaseー a fucking kink Mickey finds joy in).

But nope! Mickey just _had_ to run away!

There was no way coming back from that!

But then again, Mickey always ran away from Ian when things got a little hard (like his dick), so this time shouldn't be any different, right?

Wrong.

It _was_ different.

Mickey's dumb ass let slip he's caught enough feelings to let Ian know he's making something for him out of the fucking lemon gift.

This was bad.

So bad.

But now that he's gotten a taste of what it's like to talk to Ian, the thought of not being able to talk to him again sounded very suffocating. 

He didn't want that. 

Mickey wet his face again, turned off the tap and dried his face before going back into the kitchen to check on his (Ian's) tarts. 

The scent started to fill the air, and although lemon tarts weren't his thing, he knew they were going to taste good. He may have put a little more sugar than necessary and it would probably defeat the purpose of the sour tang the delicatessen should have, but it shouldn't matter anyway. 

Ian looked like a teaser but he also looked like someone who liked sweets. 

Ian was sweet. He had a very nice smile. 

Mickey sighed, feeling the heat creep at the back of his neck. 

Honestly, he felt like a teenager whose got a crush on the popular guy at school (if he didn't deny how gay he was back then or if he attended school enough to develop crushes). 

But he couldn't help himself as he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, sitting at his dining table, wracking his brain for some words to write on his note. 

Yeah, he was going to pull an _Ian_ and write a goddamn note to go with his fucking lemon tart gift. 

His first few notes were so bland; simple but also intimidatingー _here, take this, yours, eat it, enjoy_. 

It kind of looked like euphemisms but also, they were just things he could say in person when he handed the shit over. 

Ha. 

He fancied the idea of seeing Ian's expressionー he already got a teaser earlier. But after how violently he overreacted to Ian's blissful expression, there was _no fucking way_ he was going to give it face to face now. 

Pulling another _Ian_ , he was just gonna throw it across the balcony. 

The tarts won't be durable as the lemons itself, but Mickey was making a lot so surely some were gonna survive the fall. 

However once the tarts were finished and left out on top of the counter to cool down, Mickey fell asleep on the couch, feeling the weight of his work shift finally draining all of his energy.

He didn't wake up until it was around eleven p.m. later that night. 

Cursing as he left the kitchen light on, he dug around the drawers for something to put the lemon tarts in, finding a ziplock bag, cling wrap and a plastic bag. 

He made about twenty tarts but only three fit inside the ziplock bag comfortably, a few got ruined and squashed as he tried to shove more than just three inside and then he felt a little stupid at his excessive use ziplock bags. 

He may have also wasted maybe a metre and a half worth of cling wrap, stupidly thinking that the cling wrap would hold the tarts together. 

He tried stacking them upright and wrapping around it but it ended up looking like a really rigid, poorly constructed lemon tart dildo. 

Mickey may or may not have sat on the kitchen floor for a solid five minutes laughing at how funny it looked. 

He sent a picture of it to Mandy for shits and giggles. 

Eventually, he settled on putting the nicer looking tarts in a large plastic container he found at the back of one of his cupboards, quickly washing and and drying it before placing the tarts neatly inside. 

Perfect fit, and the way they were stacked (one upright, one downright and so on) prevented them from moving around too much. 

Nice. 

Mickey made his way over to the balcony, deciding that Ian would most likely be in bed or working or whatever (basically just not out on the balcony) since it was nearing midnight, passing the dining table with his notes. 

 _Fuck the notes,_ Mickey thought. _These tarts should say enough on its fucking own._

He breathed easy when there were no signs of Ian on the balcony (or awake or at home since the lights didn't glow from inside); he made his way over towards Ian's balcony. 

If Mickey gave a little flick of his wrist, he could just easily drop the container onto Ian's balcony with ease, but it would land in the narrow cornerー Ian wouldn't notice it unless he walked over towards Mickey's balcony. 

Analyzing Ian's layout, he settled on trying to throw the container onto the table that was just right beyond where the glass balcony door would be.

Mickey had quite the arm and a good aim; he was very confident he could make it land right where he wanted it to.

Taking a moment to concentrate, he held the container in one hand, deciding to throw it like it was a frisbee. 

But then...

Just as the container was about to leave his hand, he heard Ian's balcony door slide open, causing Mickey to flinch at the noise, his wrist flicking the container higher than he had intended to.

And it happened all so fucking fast.

"What the fuー" 

"Oh, fuck!" 

Mickey had thrown the container, hitting Ian right in the face. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood mention!

This wasn't happening. 

This _could not_ be happening! 

Ian stumbled back onto the table, holding onto his nose as Mickey leaned over the balcony rails, as if he could actually do something from his end. 

"What the fuck was that?" Ian asked, voice muffled. He looked down at his feet where the container of tarts sat on the tiled floor. "Is that a fucking container?" And the way he spokeー it wasn't with anger, but confusion. 

He was _very_ confused and rightfully so. He picked up the container with his free hand and inspected it. He then looked up at Mickey who was still stumped for words, unsure of how to react. 

"What is this?" Ian asked. 

Mickey swallowed thickly. "Tarts. They're... um... Lemon tarts." He forced out, hands gripping the rails tightly. 

"You made this?" 

Mickey nodded. 

"For me?" 

Mickey nodded again.

Ian stood up straight, still holding onto his nose and onto the container. "You threw it at my face?" 

Now Mickey could find his voice, "I didn't fuckin' mean to." He said, ashamed. "You weren'tー you weren't s'posed to, uh..." 

"You couldn't just give it to me, like, normally?" Ian asked, slowly approaching Mickey after setting the container down on the table behind him.

"Coming from you? You, who fucking threw a bag of lemons?" Mickey countered incredulously. 

"Okay, no, um, thatー that wasn't... That was an accident." Ian said, waving his now free hand in defence. 

Mickey crossed his arms and raised a brow in suspicion, "An accident?" 

Ian nodded. "Yeah." 

"How was throwing a bag of fuckin' lemons across balconies an _accident?_ " Mickey asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Ian, with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose which made his voice sound funny, looked very reluctant to answer that question. But Mickey's pointed glare made the redhead sigh and surrender. 

"I was supposed to call you out, you know... Just... Hand it over to you like normally and stuff." Ian began, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He always looked at Mickey when he spoke but right now, his gaze was lowered. "But then, um, when I approached closer, you, uh..." 

"Spit it out, carrot top!" Mickey said, clearly impatient. 

Ian sighed again; if it weren't for the darkness of the night sky, Mickey probably could see Ian blushing. "You, I... I think, um... I heard you masturbating, I think." He then chanced a look at Mickey, who looked like he was gonna retreat. 

He was as white as a sheet, mouth slightly ajar as his arms dropped down by his side. He took a step back. 

Ian suddenly felt panicked, "D-Don't run, I didn't mean to! I just, I'm not a pervert or anything, I just, I didn't _mean_  to hear what I heard, although what I heard was very niー Oh, God, um, that's notー I just wanted to see if you were still up so I could give you the lemons but then the sounds, you were, um, and then my roommate suddenly came outta nowhereー fucking scared me and I panicked so I threw the lemons over out of reflex so that they wouldn't come over and hearー not that I didn't want them to hear, okay, no that cameー that came out wrongー" 

And during the midst of Ian's rambling (something Mickey forced himself to tune out of) both of arms were waving around frantically; that's when Mickey noticed something. 

Ian's nose was bleeding. 

"Jesus fuck, Ian." Mickey interrupted, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't haveー" 

"No," Mickey dismissed, shaking his head. "I mean, you're fuckin' bleeding. Your nose." He said, gesturing.

"Oh." Ian looked at his hand that was dark before touching his nose again. "Yeah. I guess I am." 

Mickey rolled his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Just... Just stay there. Stay there." He said, going back into his apartment to retrieve some tissues. 

He went into the bathroom, looking at his face in the mirrorーcheeks redder than Ian's stupidly perfect bed head hair. 

He felt sick, his stomach was doing somersaults; swallowing his saliva down helped a little but not a whole lot. 

He hated this. 

He _hated_ this. 

Embarrassment after embarrassment; Ian probably found it interesting or cute or whatever, but Mickey just felt humiliated. 

Gross. 

Ian probably thought he had an excessive sex drive or some shitー always hearing him jerking off or fucking some random every other fucking Friday.

He hated this. 

Sighing, taking a generous amount of toilet paper, he returned back onto the balcony; Ian had his back to him. 

"Here." Mickey said, walking towards Ian's balcony with an outstretched hand that held the toilet paper. He saw Ian flinch and turn around, a tart in his mouth. Mickey hated how his heart fluttered a bit at the sight.

Ian walked back to Mickey, swallowing what was in his mouth, blood messily wiped away (there was a stain on the shirt of Ian's shoulder). 

"You really made this?" He asked, gesturing at the half eaten tart in his hand. 

Mickey dropped his hand, shrugging. "Yeah." 

"Oh." Ian said. "I really like it. It tastes really good." He complimented. "How'd you learn to make this? You made it from scratch, right?" 

Mickey nodded, gaze lowering. "I'm a chef." He said. "Guess I wanted to make something for ya with the lemons you gave me." He confessed.

"Oh." Ian repeated. "A chef."

Mickey scoffed. "Yeah, I know, not as fucking glamorous as your EMT shitー" 

Ian suddenly leaned over the balcony railing, grabbing the front of Mickey's shirt and pulling the brunet closer to him. He pressed his lips against Mickey's, wasting no time to get his tongue into Mickey's mouth. 

Mickey momentarily froze, his hands gripping the balcony railing before melting into the kiss; the taste of sweet lemon mixed with the metallic tang of Ian's blood filling his tongue.

It was a strange combination Mickey quickly found himself addicted to; tilting his head and pressing a hand against the back of Ian's neck, he wanted a little more. 

Ian pulled back slowly, almost reluctantly before whispering, "Sorry." 

They stayed in their outstretched position, just staring at each other, trying to figure out where to go from here. 

"Sorry." Ian repeated, loosening his grip on Mickey's shirt. "You gonna run again?" 

Mickey, as if in a trance, shook his head. 


	9. Chapter 9

He didn't want it to be a thing. 

Well, of course Mickey _wanted_ it to be a _thing_ but the part of him that _didn't want it_ to be a thing was the part of him that kept rejecting Ian's advances. 

They kissed. 

It was a very nice kiss and Mickey liked it a lot.

Yes, it was unexpected, but it just seemed so much like Ian. So much like them. 

There was no them. 

But Ian, in the following days after their first kiss, kind of made it obvious he wanted them to be a _them_. 

Usually, if Mickey was attracted to someone, he would jump at the chance to get in their pants. But for some reason, he had reservationsー reservations about Ian. 

He realises it's because he doesn't want a quick fuckー he wants a relationship with Ian, the kind where they go on fucking dates and hold hands and kiss and grow old with each other, the gay kind of shit couples do besides sex.

Yes, he wanted to have sex with Ian, but he also didn't just want to be with Ian just for that. 

In all honesty, Mickey never really thought about these things until they kissed. He  then notice that Ian was someone he wanted to build a life or could see a future with, he supposed. 

With all these crappy cliché thoughts, Mickey allowed this little gayness in him.

And what was even gayer was how shy he became around Ianー he was _never_ shy whenever he wanted to seduce someone and Ian was _definitely_ someone he wanted to seduce. 

But it just wasn't happening. 

The morning after their first kiss, Mickey didn't feel like going out on the balcony. He did anyway, and found Ian already outside sitting in his usual spot by the table.

Or, he used to be at his usual spot.

He had moved his chair to press against the brick wall in the narrow space where his and Mickey's balcony almost meet; there was enough room for his legs to fit comfortably. 

Mickey did not hide his surprise. "The fuck?" 

"Good morning." Ian said, bundled up with a coffee mug in hand. It was quite chilly. "How're you?"

Mickey fished the pockets of his sweats for a lighter and a cigarette. "We doin' this now?" He asked. 

"Doing what?" Ian cocked his head. 

"You're awfully fuckin' close." Mickey said, lighting up his smoke. 

Ian chuckled. "Yeah, well, I wanted to be close." 

"To what? The edge?" 

"To you." Ian smiled. He then turned his body and hooked his armpits over the rails; chin resting on the smooth metal. "Can I kiss you again?"

And that's where it started. That's when their no talking for seven years turned to causally talking to lemon throwing to _good morning_ , _how are you_ , and _can we kiss?_  

Mickey had said no the first time, very firm and very aggressive, as if he was trying to dare Ian to _come on, ask me that again and I'll make you fuckin' wish our balconies were further apart_. 

Obviously, it didn't work. Later that night,  Ian asked againー Mickey left the balcony as soon as he entered, hearing the soft chuckle from Ian. 

To Ian, Mickey just looked like a gentle but grumpy little bunny, not deterred by Mickey's _bad boy fuck u-up_ attitude. 

If anything, he found it attractive. 

He was attracted to Mickey, but he knew his advances probably seemed like teasing and done out of boredom through Mickey's point of view. 

It made Ian sad. 

But still, he asked Mickey everytime he saw him and as time passed on and days became weeks, Mickey was less aggressive and more passive everytime Ian asked for a kiss. 

He would get it out of the way, his _hello's_ were followed by a _can we kiss?_ Mickey would say no and this time, instead of fleeing like he usually did in the beginning, he sat on his own balcony chair, settling into a casual conversation with the redhead. 

Even his chair moved closer to Ian's balcony; sometimes they'd share a blunt or two at the end of the night, maybe even a beer. 

"I gotta go." Mickey said, flicking the filter of his cigarette over the balcony. "Early shift at the restaurant." 

Ian hummed, "Oh that's right. The other patisserie chef's still on maternity leave." He recalled. Mickey nodded, standing. Ian watched the brunet under his lashes, leaning his chin on his bent knee where he rest the sole of his foot on his chair. "Can I get a goodnight kiss?" 

Mickey sighed. "Why you always asking when you know what the answer will be?" 

Ian shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe this time you'll change your mind?"

Mickey scoffed, rubbing the tip of his nose. "As fuckin' if." 

Ian laughed. "Well, doesn't hurt to ask, I guess." Mickey understood that point. 

"Why you wanna kiss me so bad for again?" He then asked, deciding it wouldn't hurt  _him_ to ask something as reasonable as that. 

Ian rose a brow, "If it wasn't obvious, it's because I like you?" He said. "You're a cool guy and I like hanging out with you." 

Mickey unfortunately couldn't believe the words coming out of Ian's mouth so he quickly dismissed Ian's confession. 

Ian then stood up, dusting his pants. He sensed that Mickey was probably feeling uncomfortable and it was time for their time together to end and start anew tomorrow, something Mickey knew Ian was thinking and secretly appreciated. "Okay, goodnight then."

Mickey watched as Ian turned his back to him, chewing his lower lip in contemplation. "Wait."

Ian didn't even try to seem subtle when he whipped his head back around. "Yeah?"

Mickey hated how eager and hopeful Ian looked, like a puppy wagging its tail in anticipation for what its owner has in stall. He sighed. "Goodnight to you too." 

"Oh." Ian said. He then smiled appreciatively; genuinely. It made Mickey's stomach fall into knots. 

Sighing once more and scratching the bridge of his nose with his thumbnail, Mickey said, "C'mere." 

Ian cocked his head to the side. "Huh?"

"You want your fuckin' kiss or not!" Mickey grounded, a hand on his hip with the other gesturing at Ian. 

"Oh. Oh! Oh, yeah. Yes please." Ian said excitedly, planting one of his knees on his chair to gain leverage as he leaned himself over the balcony railing. 

This was a bit ridiculous; Mickey felt ridiculous as he mirrored Ian's actions, grimacing as Ian comically puckered up his lips for his long awaited kiss. 

"Don't look like that." He commented. 

"Just waiting on you." Ian teased. "Hopefully you don't make me wait  _too_ long; my arm's are gonna give out." 

Mickey rolled his eyes, leaning forward but unable to move any more closer than half way. 

And then they were staring at each other like the last time after their first kissー Mickey's eyes full of uncertainty with Ian's checking to see if this was still okay. 

He decided it was still okay. 

He pressed their lips together in quick, chaste kiss, pulling back a little a few seconds later. He swiped his tongue over his lips as if to taste Mickey on them before grinning. "Nice." 

"Shut up." Mickey found himself whispering. 

Ian chuckled. He was sated. "Okay, goodnight, Mickー" 

"No." Mickey said, shaking his head before pulling Ian back in for another kiss, this time more deeper. Mickey, on the other hand, was  _not_ sated.

Their tongues met, sliding and licking against each other as their lips locked like perfect pieces in a puzzle. 

Mickey had dominated the kiss but fell quick to Ian's techniques, even allowing himself to moan a little at how good it felt to kiss the redhead.

So good he needed two hands to hold onto Ian's face as they made out.

Big mistake.

Big _fucking_ mistake. 

Mickey's chair, under the new shifted weight, slid back, causing Mickey to fall forward, losing his balance.

He accidentally bit down on Ian's tongue out of shock, making Ian hiss at the pain and pull back. But he was quick to analyse the situation, feeling Mickey's weight grab a hold of him. He brought the arm that wasn't holding him up on the rails up under Mickey for support just until Mickey could hold onto his own balcony railing.

"Holy shit." Ian whispered the same time Mickey muttered, "Fuck." 

"You okay?" Ian asked, not letting go of Mickey until both of his feet were on the ground. "You slipped?" 

Mickey couldn't answer that since it was so obvious that he did. "Get me killed, why don't ya." 

"Ex _cuse_ me?" Ian said. "I'm pretty sure I just _saved_ your ass from falling." 

"Whatever." Mickey wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

Ian frowned. "That was scary." He murmured. "You almost fell." 

Mickey didn't know he was looking down until he had to look up to look at Ian. "Sorry." He apologised, despite not knowing  _why_ he felt the need to. 

"You should come over to my place next time." Ian suggested bashfully.

Mickey rose his eyebrows. "Next time?" 

Ian cracked a smile. "You know, like the next time you wanna make out with me or something." 

Mickey flipped him off. 


	10. Chapter 10

There was no _next time_. Mickey made sure there was no _next time_. 

He didn't want there to be a next time because the next time it would happen, he was so sure he would fall and Ian wouldn't be able to hold him up. And going over to Ian's place just to kiss? 

Fuck no! 

It wasn't worth it! (Maybe a little worth it). 

Mickey was in this for the long run and going over to Ian's place, where he's fairly sure that _kissing_ wouldn't be the only thing they'd do was just going to lead nowhere. 

His dick ached at the thought though. 

After his shift at the restaurant, Mickey headed straight to the bathroom and masturbated while he showered. It was a daily routine at his point and he felt like some goddamn teenager unable to jerk off in his own place in fears of getting caught by a parent except _his_ parent was actually his next door balcony neighbour and was younger than him by two years. 

He wondered if Ian liked to be called _daddy_. 

Mickey was sure to not find out any time soon.

He washed thoroughly and dried himself quickly; shoving on some socks with some sweatpants and a sweater. He, then by habit, when out onto the balcony for a cigarette. 

Ian was obviously there on his balcony like clockwork, but the vibe he gave off was strange. 

"Hey, Mick." Ian said rather unenthusiastically. 

Mickey shoved his cigarette between his lips at lit it up, "Fucks up with you?"

Ian brought his hand up to take a deep sip of his drinkー right. He was drinking. He was probably drunk. "Lost someone today." 

Mickey shifted on his feet uncomfortably before deciding to sit down. "Like... A family member or..." 

"No," Ian shook his head, finishing his beer before tossing it carelessly to the side. "Not a family member. A patient. She was a fucking wreck when he got to her, but we managed to get her into the truck... but then she just... Died right when we got to the hospital." 

"Oh." Mickey said, trying to soak all that in. He passed his cigarette over to Ian who took it eagerly. "Nothing you could'a done though, right?" 

"It was like we picked her up just to watch her die." Ian took a long drag of the smoke, burning through the stick before handing it back. 

"I'm sorry, man." Mickey said, unsure of what to say in this situation. Ian rarely shared the bad stories of his job, they were usually uplifting and inspiration if anything. 

This one must've hit him hard. 

Ian hung one arm over the railing towards Mickey, fingers out stretched as if he was reaching for something. Mickey cocked his head to the side, took a drag and offered the smoke back. 

Ian retracted his hand a little and shook his head. "No, I don't want... Can we hold hands?" 

Mickey stared Ian's yearning hand. "Why?" 

Ian sighed, dropping his arm down. "Forget it." 

Mickey grimaced at that, deciding to look straight ahead instead of at Ian. 

They sat in silence for a moment, just breathing in each other's company before Ian spoke again. "Hey, Mick?" 

"What?" 

"Aren't you..." He paused, thrumming his fingertips against the side of his balcony, "Aren't you sick of us being like this?" 

"Being like what?"

"Like _this_ ," He gestured at the space between them. "Apart." 

"Don't know what you're gettin' at." Mickey said, knowing _exactly_ what Ian's getting at. 

The redhead sighed, leaning his chin against the railing. " _Mickey_ ," he whined. "I like you." 

"Say that again and I'llー"

"Can we hold hands, _please?_ " Ian interrupted urgently, stretching his arm out. "Please? I won't ask again." 

Mickey looked at Ian's hand, chewing his bottom lip raw. Rolling his eyes, he caved in, stretching his arm out for Ian to take. 

Ian grabbed onto Mickey's hand tightly, suddenly rising up onto his feet. 

And then onto his chair. 

And then he had one foot on the railing; his free hand on it too to steady himself, all the while still holding onto Mickey. 

"Ianー _stop_ ー what the fuck are youー" Mickey shouted, wanting to withdraw his hand from Ian's strong grasp. 

But instead, he held onto him tighter, bringing his other hand out for support as Ian attempted to jump onto Mickey's balcony. 


	11. Chapter 11

When Mickey woke up, it was five-thirty a.m. the next morning. It was still dark out but with the curtains drawn open, the natural luminosity of the sky seeped in through the glass of the balcony wall, guiding his sight.

He cracked his neck, a little sore from sleeping on the couch as he glanced over the room to check up on Ian who was tucked into his bed. 

Mickey suddenly had the energy to clean up his apartment, even just a little. He suddenly cared if Ian saw some embarrassing things just lying around like a dirty sock or some anal beads. 

He tiptoed around his apartment, picking up dirty clothes and shoving them into the hamper in his bathroom. He found some toys and lube shoved in the sides of the couch (for easy access whenever he brought someone home) and put them back in his bedside drawers. 

Hopefully Ian had the common curtesy to not look through them. 

He then got to tidying the magazines and the shelves of books and games and by the time he was fully satisfied with the state of his apartment, he decided to wash up, washing his face and brushing his teeth. 

It was almost seven by then and Ian was still asleep, looking so fucking aesthetic with how the faint sunrise hit his goddamn muscly shoulders (he was sleeping on his stomach). 

Mickey figured if he was going to be hospitable to the redheaded balcony jumper, he could take a few pics. 

Redheaded balcony jumper. 

Ian fucking jumped. 

The idiot fucking jumped.

It all happened so fast; if Mickey tried to recall, he wouldn't be able to. At least, not in detail. 

Ian was on the railingー a fucking curved railing made of out shitty metal that could easily be rocked if you really wanted it to moveー and there was a lot of shouting. 

Obviously, it was from Mickey. But he can't remember what he was saying, probably gibberish, maybe a shitload of swears. 

And Mickey thinks he was holding onto Ian's other hand at one pointー the fucker must've let go of the railing he had held onto for balance? He doesn't know  

Then the next thing he remembered was a dull throbbing pain in back of his head and elbowsー a warm weight on top of himー Ian probably lunged forward and knocked Mickey back onto the floor, landing chest to chest.

It was all a blur. 

But what Mickey _did_ manage to remember clear as day was how fucking fast his heart was beatingー and Ian's heart, too. 

And how in sync they were. 

Tossing his phone onto the couch after taking a few pics, Mickey decided to cook some breakfast (not like he was trying to prove he'd be a keeper or anything). 

He was almost done with his extra looking white suburban Northside family breakfast when he looked over and saw Ian still sleeping. He made the effort of being loud to wake the redhead up to avoid having to wake him up personally.

No such luck. 

So now, here's his gay ass holding a tray of breakfast, ready to serve the redhead in bed looking like some kept wife or some shit.  

"Wake up." He said, but it was more to himself, like some sort of plea. 

 _Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up._ Mickey mentally continued, staring at Ian's sleeping form as if he could telepathically tell him to wake up. 

It was wasted effort. (And stupid to think it would actually work). 

Rolling his eyes, he nudged the edge of the bed with his knee, trying to stir Ian awake. The fucker was either a heavy sleeper or he was just too hung over. 

He remebered a strong smell of alcohol on Ian's breath. 

"Ian." Mickey said, a little more louder. "Ay, fuckhead. Wake up." 

Ian, in response, just buried his face deeper into the pillows.

Mickey sighed, extending his hand out to prod Ian's back with purpose.

(He shouldn't have done that). 

In retrospect, Mickey blamed Ian. 

He blamed Ian for wearing sleep so fucking well on him, looking so damn _ethereal_ and _otherworldly_ when he slept. 

He blamed Ian for capturing him in some kind of enchantmentー blamed Ian for pulling him into some kind of trance. 

He blamed Ian for making him forget that he was holding a tray of breakfast.

He blamed Ian for making him _spill_ the fucking tray of breakfast, complete with hot coffee and still sizzling bacon with runny eggs and waffles with syrup, on top of him. 

It was all Ian's fault that Mickey let go of the tray, forgetting that he was holding it over Ian's sleeping self, and making him basically dump it on him. 

All. Ian's. Fucking. Fault. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun making this... I didn't bother with Ian's apartment since it's not being described, but hopefully [this](http://image.prntscr.com/image/81ac0b5a456f43d79dec49b3aec82619.png) makes it a little easier for you guys to imagine the layout!

"Thanks for, uh... this." Ian said as he emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered. He gestured at the sweats and tank Mickey leant him and smiled sheepishly. 

Mickey just nodded once, slumped on the couch still in disbelief of what he had just done. 

While Ian took a shower, Mickey cleaned up all the shit he had dropped and stripped the bed of it's linen and blankets. Luckily, nothing stained the mattressー unlucky because that meant most of the stuff landed on Ian. 

(He had a very angry red burn on the back of his neck because of the coffee). 

Ian shifted on his feet, looking down at the sweats he wore, "This's kinda bigー doesn't look the kind that'd fit you to be honest." 

"I had a phase." Mickey said, staring out the balcony door. 

"Oh." Ian said, unsure of how to interpret that. He decided to just clear it all up, "Like a... _I wanna wear my boyfriend's clothes_ kind of phase or..." 

Mickey huffed, amused. "A fat phase." 

Ian cracked a smile. "A fat phase?" He said sceptically. When he saw that Mickey wasn't joking, he grimaced. "Well, uh, you look great now. Really." 

"Uh-huh." Mickey nodded. 

Ian sighed, now getting why he's moody. "Look, um, it's fine, Mickey." Ian said, shuffling over to sit right next to him. "It's all good. It was an accident, okay?" 

Mickey laughed pathetically, turning to look at Ian. "Your neck's still fuckin' red." 

Ian shook his head, "Doesn't hurt anymore." He assured before leaning forward, pressing his lips against Mickey's. 

Mickey tensed briefly, eyes slightly opened before allowing himself to kiss and be kissed by Ian. "Fuck you doin'?" He then asked. 

"You made me breakfast." Ian said, matching the low tone Mickey used. His eyes searched Mickey's, wondering if he could kiss the brunet again. He wanted to kiss him again.

But Mickey just spoke, "You didn't eat it." 

"Well, it _was_ all over me." Ian chuckled. "But it doesn't matterー the fact that you made it for me is what matters, so thank you, Mick." And then he leaned back in, tentatively darting his tongue out to lick Mickey's lips.

Mickey sighed sweetly, bringing a hand out to cup the back of Ian's head, deepening the kiss. 

Naturally, they fell back against the seats of the couch with Ian hovering over Mickey; lips still locked. 

Ian fit himself in between Mickey's spread legs, brushing his crotch against the brunet's, rocking his hips experimentally. 

When Mickey finally moaned into Ian's mouth, that's when Ian decided that this was acceptable, that Mickey was fine with this and grinding a little harder would be okay. 

So he rolled his hips with more purpose, rubbing their clothed and growing erections together in a way that made them both feel good. 

Mickey was the first one to break the kiss, needing to swallow in some air so Ian occupied his mouth against Mickey's jawline. 

"Mick," Ian whispered, "Do you like me? Cause I like you. I like you a lot." He said, kissing right under Mickey's jaw before glancing up to look at his face. 

It was fucking orgasmic. 

Ian didn't get an immediate response; Mickey was lost in the pleasure of their dicks rubbing together through their sweatsー he even rolled his hips up in time with Ian's downward thrusts. 

It was really hot how cute and needy Mickey was for release. 

But Ian wanted an answer so he placed one of his hands on Mickey's cheek, looking directly down at him. "Mickey, Mickey," 

Mickey finally opened his eyes; pupils blown out wide and Ian almost felt himself come at the sight. Mickey let out a shaky breath, "What?" 

"D'you like me?" Ian repeated, slowing down his thrusts against Mickey's crotch. 

Mickey glanced to the side, his teeth dragging themselves over his pink, swollen bottom lip in contemplation. 

For that entire moment of silence, Ian was so scared of what Mickey's answer would be. His heart was beating uncontrollably fast, it was possibly on the verge of giving out. 

But then Mickey finally looked back at Ian, eyes boring themselvesー blue on green. 

"Yeah." Mickey said. "I like you, Ian." 

"You do?" Ian smiled. 

Mickey nodded, carding his fingers through the back of Ian's head, softly tugging the short hairs, "Yeah, I do. I like you." He confirmed before pulling Ian back down for another kiss. 

And then it got really intense. 

Ian ground his dick roughly against Mickey's as Mickey dropped his hands down the length of Ian's body, feeling the firm move of muscles underneath his hands before grabbing a hold of Ian's ass. 

He squeezed the flesh, almost guiding Ian's hips to grind a certain way against him that made his eyes roll. 

Ian groaned against Mickey's mouth, bringing one hand over Mickey's head to grab tightly onto the armrest for leverage. He then went to town, expertly rolling his hips, dipping his hips down low to rub his erection over Mickey's hole and back over.

It really felt like Ian was fucking him. 

Mickey wanted him to fuck him. 

Ian dick felt so big against him, so thick and warm; his mouth watered at the thought of how it'd feel buried deep in his ass. 

Mickey was going to come. 

"Fuck, Ian. Oh, fuck," Mickey gasped against Ian's ear; a hand moving back up to scratch Ian's scalp.

"You close?" Ian asked in between soft grunts. 

Mickey nodded, a light whine slipping past his lips. "Feels so fuckin' good..." He said, and Ian chuckled, diving back down to capture Mickey's lips. 

They kissed wetlyー all tongue and teeth clashing against each other as Ian tried to pull Mickey over the edge. 

But then... 

There was a _buzzing_ sound. 

Ian broke the kiss, stopping his hips and drawing brows together in confusion. "You hear that?" 

Not only could Mickey _hear_ it, he could _feel_ something vibrating underneath the couch cushions just above his head.

Mind still a little hazy, he removed the hand that he still had on Ian's ass and shoved it in between the couch cushions above. He grabbed the thing that was making the buzzing noise and pulled it out for them both to see. 

It was a vibrating dildo.

Fuck.


	13. Chapter 13

Ian and Mickey alternated between staring at each other and staring at the vibrating dildo Mickey had in his hand like they weren't sure what to do. 

Their dicks were still hard and their faces were still flushed, although now it was probably because of how embarrassing this situation was. 

(Mostly for Mickey). 

"Do you, um... Maybe wanna..." Ian cocked his head towards the dildo and Mickey caught his drift. 

"Uh, yeah." Mickey said, switching the dildo off and putting it on the coffee table across. "Sorry." 

Ian shook his head, chuckling. "No, that's, um... Interesting." 

"You making fun of me, anaconda?" Mickey asked, eyebrows raised. 

Ian blanched. "What? No! IーI wasn't... Anaconda?" 

Mickey glanced down then back up at Ian, smirking. 

"Oh." Ian said.

"Feels pretty fuckin' big." Mickey said, wiggling a suggestive eyebrow. 

Ian swallowed deeply, coughing out of shyness. "Well, that's..." 

"Not complaining, firecrotch." Mickey said, stroking Ian's slightly damp hair back off his face. "Not complaining at all." 

And then the moment passed due to the _interruption_ , soIan got off Mickey as Mickey sat upright, the both of them sitting with their thighs touching as they watched the sun rise completely through the balcony. 

"So..." Ian said after a couple minutes of silence. "You like me." 

Mickey snorted. "Where you going with this?" 

Ian chanced a look at Mickey, suddenly feeling fidgety. "Does that mean, we're like... Together now? As boyfriends? Or something..."

Internally, Mickey preened at the thoughtー that's _exactly_ what he wanted to be with Ian, but the only thing he could translate outwardly was, "You wanna be fuckin' boyfriends?" He asked, and it sounded a little condescending. 

Ian frowned at the brunet's tone. "You don't wanna?" 

Mickey looked at Ian who looked like he was some kicked puppy. He grimaced. "And what..." He said little more softly. "You wanna go on dates and shit? Dress up and meet the parents?" 

"W-Well, meeting the parents..." Ian drifted, but continued, "But the dating thing, yeah. It's what boyfriends do. Go on dates and shit. Hold hands and kiss and stuff." 

Ian was apparently more gayer than Mickey thought, but of course Mickey fancied the idea of doing all that shit. His heart fluttered at the thought. 

"Okay then." Mickey said, avoiding Ian's gaze. "Probably should get your number then." 

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah, okay." Ian said as he watched Mickey lean over his lap to grab his phone from where he'd thrown it earlier. 

He handed it over for Ian to put his number in and Ian tapped along the screen, smiling to himself. 

"What'chu so happy 'bout?" Mickey asked. Ian shook his head, showing his contact details with the name labelled as _boyfriend_ with a heart emoji next to it. 

Oh. Ian was _that_ kind of guy. 

He looked like _that_ kind of guy though. 

"I'd ask you to put your number in for my phone, but... Oh, fuck." 

"What?" Mickey asked, but soon realised. " _Oh fuck_ indeed."

They both just remembered that Ian had jumped over the balcony and had no way of getting back into his apartment since he didn't exactly bring a _key_ with him. 

"What're you gonna do?" Mickey studied Ian as the said man looked out of the balcony. "You're not fucking jumping the rails again, Ian." 

"Aw, you care about me." Ian teased. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, "I don't want you dying doing something stupid." 

Ian smiled, falling back against the couch. "Guess I'll wait for my roommate to come home and let me in." 

"Oh, yeah? And when's that?" 

Ian shrugged. "Dunno. Probably later this evening. Mind if I chill here with you for the day? Unless you got somewhere you gotta be..." 

"And why would I let ya hang out here with me?" Mickey asked, his eyebrows knitting together. 

Ian's shoulders slumped. "Mickey. Did you already forget? We're _boyfriends_ now, it's what we do. We hang out. We do boyfriend things." 

"Right. Right." Mickey said, nodding. "Okay then, sure." 

" _Sure?_ " Ian repeated. "Mick, if you don't wanna hangー" 

"No, we can. We can... hang. Or whatever the fuck you want." 

"Oh." Ian said as if he just reached some kind of fucking epiphany. 

"What? What! Why you looking at me like that?" Mickey asked, sounding annoyed.

"You've never had a boyfriend before." Ian concluded, a grin spreading wide across his face. 

"What. _What_. Man, fuck you, I've had boyfriends before." Mickey said, offended as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Am I your first boyfriend, Mickey? Holy shit!" Ian said excitedly. 

"Shut your mouth if you don't want your ass getting kicked the fuck outta here." Mickey threatened weakly. 

It wasn't like Mickey's _never_ had a boyfriend before. Growing up in the Southside, sure it was rare, but after leaving, he had no trouble getting boyfriends. 

He did, however, had trouble _keeping_ them. 

And a part of him was scared that he wouldn't be able to keep Ian. 

Mickey never really got in too deep with someone as to go on dates and do the stuff Ian's mentionedー it was usually a couple hours of fucking, then chilling in bed with some joints then _cya next time_ (with next time being when the other he or the other guy was horny). 

And so Mickey wasn't quite sure how relationshipsー and _real_ relationships pan out. 

(He obviously wasn't going to be obvious he didn't know the fundamentals of dating someone). 

Ian shuffled closer, "Guess it'd help if I had something to help keep it shut, then." 

Mickey licked his lips subconsciously, looking between Ian's eyes and his lips. "I ain't kissing you like some virgin." 

Ian hummed, opening his mouth a little to capture Mickey's in a deep kiss. And it got really hot and intense real fast; it was like they were picking up quickly from where they left off. 

But then Ian's stomach growled. 

"Oops." He said sheepishly. 

Mickey smiled softly. "Let's go get something to eat. My shout." 


	14. Chapter 14

It was weird. 

They were holding hands. 

It was a Saturday morning and they lived on the outskirts of the city, somewhere in between the suburban homes and apartment complexesー and this wasn't the Southside so they knew they'd be safe doing _this_. 

Being a couple. 

Doing couple things. 

And it was so strange to Mickey that Ian was so prone to wanting skinship any chance he got and it was so strange that Mickey was willing to comply with this public display. 

Okay, they weren't kissing out in public or anything (not yet anyways), but this was a big step for him!

Holding hands. 

Basically letting the whole world know they're _together_. 

His hands were getting sweaty despite it being quite cool this morning. He wondered if Ian could feel how clammy it got and he also wondered if he found it gross or whatever. 

If Ian did, he didn't say anything. 

Was this what it meant to be a couple? To accept how the other person for being them? 

Mickey wasn't sure.

"Got a place in mind?" Ian asked, leaning in close. He borrowed Mickey's slippers and a sweater from one of Mickey's so called _fat phase_ , as well as one of Mickey's beanies to keep warm. 

Ian was already wearing his boyfriend's clothes and they haven't even had sex yet. 

Mickey can't stop thinking about how big Ian's dick felt pressed against him. 

"There's... a diner around the corner. Can grab a bite there." Mickey suggested, nodding his head towards the end of the street. 

Ian chuckled to himself. "This is kind of like our first date." 

"You call _getting breakfast_ a date?" Mickey asked suspiciously. 

Ian shrugged, "I guess it's not really a date. Maybe more like hanging out." He clarified. 

"Isn't that the same shit?" 

"Well, not really. There's a distinct difference between the dating and hanging." Ian said as a matter of fact. He had a smug look in his face that said _huh, I know more than you, virgin dater._  

Mickey rolled his eyes, "Oh, _now_ you can distinguish between the two?" 

"Hey, okay, look, I said _kinda_. Not that this _was_ a date." He clarified. "A date is plannedー" 

"Oh, you gonna explain to me what a fucking date is now, huh?" Mickey teased, looking up at Ian. 

"It's not like you know," He quipped back. Mickey used his free hand to slap Ian's stomach playfully. "But I'd be more than happy to show you." 

"Oh, you'd be more than happy to show me?" Mickey repeated. Ian nodded eagerly, eyes never leaving the brunet's face. "Mhm, okay. We're turning." 

Mickey suddenly body checks Ian as he forces them to turn the corner Ian didn't realise they had already reached. Ian bumped his shoulder against the corner of the brick building, letting out an _oomf_. 

Mickey snickers at his petulant behaviour, but that just caused Ian to fall back against the wall, pulling Mick close to him by the waist. 

And then he could feel itー he could _feel_ Ian, half hard against his hip. 

Ian leaned in close, breath brushing over Mickey's ear as he whispered, "Yeah, I'd be happy to take you out on a real date." He then kissed right under Mickey's earー quick and chaste before patting Mickey's waist. "Come on, let's eat. I'm starving." He said, grabbing Mickey's hand and leading them to the diner. 

Sitting in the far corner booth, they settled into their seats across from each other. The waitress took their orders and poured some coffee before they were finally alone in their own space. 

And it was awkward. 

There was the clear physical attraction between themー that much was obvious. And Mickey knew that conversational wise, there was something there. 

They did manage to talk for hours with little to no discomfort at all. 

And they just clicked. 

But somehow, Mickey thought that from now on, the conversations they have, the moments they shareー it all could amount to something. 

Maybe something like forever. 

Mickey wanted a relationship with Ian, but he never really realised what it meant. 

They needed to talk some more for solidity.

Ian must've thought that too as he was the first one to break the silence. Mickey felt his heart pounding, rough in anticipation.

But all Ian said was, "So... that dildo..." 

Mickey felt like slapping the shit out of Ian's face while his own heated furiosly. Here he was, thinking about the prospects of forever or whatever, and Ian's over there thinking about his sex toys.

" _Seriously?_ " 

"I'm just making conversation!" Ian said, putting his hands up in defence. 

Mickey's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "Conversaー out of all the _fucking_ topics you could've chose, you choose fucking _dildos?_ " 

Ian laughed, "Keep your voice down!" He hushed. "I don't know, it's the first thing I thought of! 'Sides, I don't see you making an effort." 

Mickey was offended without basis. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, "Okay, then, _fine_. How big is your dick?" 

Ian blanched. "Excuse me?" 

"Yeah, lemme know how much you packin' down there, firecrotch." Mickey said with a smirk. 

Ian began to blush. "I don't think that'sー"

"Appropriate?" Mickey finished. "Why? Cause _I_ think it's _very_ appropriate." He said, sounding suggestive. 

Ian's eyebrow quirked. "Well, then _fine_." He placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward. "But I think it's more fun if you come find out for yourself." 

Suddenly, Mickey felt a bare foot pressed in between his legsー Ian had taken off his slipperー and began stroking Mickey with the sole of his feet. 

Mickey gasped at the contact, eyes falling shut and mouth going agape. 

Ian licked his lips at the sight, pressing a little harder and feeling Mickey's dick grow.  

"Here's your order, enjoy your meal." 

Mickey jolted at the voice of the waitress placing down their food. Ian gave her a smile and a small thank you; Mickey was too flustered to show his face so he just looked at the wall. 

But he looked at Ian as soon as she left. 

And unmistakably, Mickey knew the last thing they wanted to have right now was breakfast. 


	15. Chapter 15

Ian knew this moment would come. 

Being in and out of relationships, he knew what to expectー their first kiss, their first time, learning more and more about each other with every passing day. 

In a way, they were like milestones, and Ian was a sucker for dates. Or if he can't remember the exact date a certain milestone happened, he'd remember the weather or if it was during the day or night or some gay shit like that. 

When he entered into relationships, he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to remember and reminisce all these moments in the future as a way of looking back on how far they've come. 

All the fancy dates, all the unplanned ones, everything. He wanted to celebrate everything. 

Even fights. 

And he knew that he and Mickey would fight; that was just a natural coupley thing to do. It's just he didn't expect their first fight to be _less than two hours_ into their relationship. 

Mickey was mad. 

Very mad. 

And it didn't help that Ian found it cuteー his boyfriend's grumpy little pout as they walked home from the diner. 

Bellies full and sweatpants stained. 

"I said I was sorry." Ian whined, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. He sidled up to Mickey, who kept an impossibly fast pace down the path. 

"Shut uuuuuuup." He mumbled, keeping his arms crossed over his chest since Ian had been trying so desperately to have their arms linked. 

"You were very sexy, Mickey." Ian said, lagging behind. "And fast." 

Mickey stopped in his tracks, turning around to face Ian. Ian almost bumped into him as the brunet glared. "You breathe another fucking word, I _swear_ I'm breaking up with you!" 

He then turned back and continued to walk towards the apartment blocks. Ian stood there for a moment before calling out after him, "Aw, you don't mean that, do you?" 

"Yes, I fucking do!" Mickey shouted back, flipping Ian off. 

Ian rolled his eyes, jogging to catch up. He extended his arms out and grabbed Mickey by the waist, pulling him deep into the nearest alley way. He then crowded Mickey against the wall, leaving no space for the brunet to run. 

"But we _just_ started dating." Ian said with a pout. Mickey brought his hands up to push against Ian, but not really trying to get away. 

"Yeah, well then you better cut the shit." Mickey said. 

Ian leaned in close, "But it was good, right?" He asked lowly. "You felt good?" 

Mickey's cheeks burned at the memory. 

The memory of Ian stroking his dick underneath the table with his footー the adrenaline he received with it being done in public. 

He remembered his soft pleads, " _Ian, keep going..._ " Before Ian got up from his seat and slid in right next to Mickey. 

Then there were fingers sliding up his thighー Ian's eyes were on Mickey's, searching for some kind of sign. 

Mickey gave him a slight nodー barely thereー but enough for Ian to dip his fingers beyond the band of Mickey's sweatpants. 

He grabbed onto Mickey's erection and Mickey let out a gasp, clenching his teeth together as soon as the sound came out. 

Then Ian's voice, low in his ear, said, " _Hey... Better eat your breakfast before it gets cold._ " And then he began stroking Mickey in his sweats, keeping a steady and firm pace. 

Mickey lolled his head onto Ian's shoulder, breathing lightly with his eyes shut close as Ian surveyed the diner. 

Barely anyone here but if anyone got too close to their back booth, they'd get caught. 

His heartbeat sped in excitement at that thought.

" _C'mon, Mickey. Eat._ " Ian teased with a smile, looking down at the blissful expression Mickey woreー flushed cheeks and eyebrows strewn together. 

" _Shut up_." Mickey murmured, gnawing on his bottom lip. Ian laughed, picking up a fork with his right hand and proceeding to eat his breakfastー his left continuing to jerk Mickey off.

" _Want me to feed you?_ " 

" _No, I want you to keep going..._ " 

" _You're gonna waste the food._ " 

" _I don't fucking careー keep doing that_."

Ian complied but also forked up a piece of scrambled egg on Mickey's plate and brought it up to Mickey's lips. 

" _Eat and I'll keep jerking you off._ " Ian had said, slowing down his hand. 

Mickey kept his mouth shut as he opened his eyes. He glared at Ian but the redhead didn't waver. 

Sighing, Mickey opened his mouth, letting Ian feed him. 

" _Good boy._ " Ian said gleefully as he resumed pleasuring Mickey. 

" _Shut the fuーohhh..._ " Mickey moaned breathily, eyes falling back shut. 

And so Ian continued to feed himself and Mickey while jerking Mickey off. And when Mickey grew close to the edgeー breath shortening and hips twitching, Ian kissed him in attempts to keep him quiet as he came. 

Mickey fell pliant against Ian's shoulder as Ian tried to take as much of Mickey's come in his hand to prevent Mickey from being stuck with the wetness, bringing his soaked fingers out carefully. He grabbed a lot of tissues to wipe himself clean. 

No one seemed to have noticed what they were doing besides a lone waitress who was kind enough to leave them be despite them being the indecent ones.

" _You good_?" Ian soon asked when Mickey's breathing regulated. 

" _You're a fucking dick_." Mickey said weakly, letting himself lean on Ian for a few more minutes. 

And he saw that Mickey was smiling. 

So right now, he was confused as to why his boyfriend was mad at him.

Mickey _did_ say yes and he _did_ enjoy himself, so Ian wasn't sure why he was being given attitude. 

Cute little grumpy attitude. 

"Fucking... shameless was what that was." Mickey finally replied, looking to the side. 

"Well, we don't have to do that stuff again. I just thought it was cute. You looked so cute, Mickey. You looked so good like that." Ian assaulted with compliments that made Mickey's heart beat violently fast. 

"In public, I don't wanna do that shit." Mickey said, looking directly into Ian's eyes. "Or, you know, not with so many people around." 

"There were like, three other people. Maybe ten including the staff." Ian assured. 

"Let's just keep this shit at home for now, okay?" Mickey stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Ian took a step back and raised his hands up in surrender. "Alright. Again, I'm sorry." 

Mickey rubbed the tip of his nose, "It's fine. Let's just get back into the apartment." He suggested, not waiting for Ian as he resumed walking. 

Ian beamed, following after his boyfriend. 


	16. Chapter 16

When they returned to Mickey's apartment, the first thing the brunet said was, "I'm taking a shower." 

"Oh, okay." Ian said. "Can Iー" 

"No." Mickey interrupted, shrugging off his sweater and tossing it onto the bed. He turned to look at Ian, "Make yourself at home. Just don't break any shit." 

"Okay." Ian nodded, watching the older man pad into the bathroom. He heard he door lock which made him smile to himself. 

As the sounds of the shower rained down, Ian wasn't sure what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, surveying Mickey's apartment. 

A little snooping would be okay, right? 

Ian naturally gravitated towards the kitchen; he opened the fridge, the pantry, the cupboards and even the oven. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but there wasn't really anything worth noting. 

The next thing that caught his attention was how the walls and corners were basically filled with bookshelves. There were a _lot_ of bookshelvesー not that they all held books; some had a few video games in their cases, all stacked neatly and with some sort of structure. 

Ian ran his finger across the binders, skimming the titles of the booksー most of them he's never even heardー a majority were cooking and non-fiction related. 

Then the couches came into sight. The layout of Mickey's apartment sure was weird; he had a fucking bed out in the lounge room when it was clear there was a bedroom in this apartment. 

He dug his hands in the pillows of the couches, hoping to find something. (There was nothing to his disappointment). 

Few casual magazines on the coffee tableー and Ian's lemon note was there. And the dildo from earlier. 

Mickey sure liked them _big_. 

He chuckled to himself at how interesting his boyfriend was. And then the thought that _wow_ , they were actually boyfriends now after seven years of just peacefully co-existing without a word amazed him. 

And what the cherry on top of all of this was that Ian barely knew Mickey, and he was so excited at the thought of getting to know him more and more with each passing day. 

Maybe fall in love with the guy, who knows. 

Ian made his way over to Mickey's bed. The pillows, blankets and sheets were thrown off, probably in the hamper to be washed. And then he went through Mickey's bedside drawers. 

Right off the bat, he found several flavoured bottles of lube (the banana flavour seemed to be his favourite) and assorted condomsー Mickey had a type (nice and big), but he wasn't picky with his encountersー he had all different sizes of condoms. 

Ian would probably have to adress his concerns about how they aren't in an open relationship and what not (he had a feeling was just going to set himself up for another fight). 

The next drawer down had some paracetamols and bills. Basically, the important but boring stuff. 

The last drawer had all the goodsー vibrators, dildos, anal beads, anal plugs, cuffsー Mickey had fucking _cuffs_. 

He supposed kinks were also another thing he'd have to address (hopefully sooner than laterー he wasn't sure when it'd happen with this unpredictable progression of their relationship). 

The other draw on the other side of Mickey's bed just had Mickey's boxers and socks and shitー but that discovery just unlocked another thing Ian was curious aboutー where did Mickey store his clothes? 

He didn't know since Mickey left him the clothes he was wearing now right outside the bathroom door when he was showering, but he didn't see anything in the lounge room that could store clothes. 

Ian looked at the closed door of the supposed bedroom. 

Holy shit! 

Did Mickey turn his bedroom into a walk in closet?

The thought riled him up. 

He walked over towards the bedroom, opening it tentatively. He was surprised when the door just openedー he half expected it to be locked, like the room was off limits or something. 

It wasn't, he guessed. 

Peering into the room, though, it was just a normal room. There was a large wardrobeー that curiosity had been quenched, and there was also a bed. 

It was kind of a small bed, actually. And across from it, was a desk. And peering his head deeper into the room, he noticed there was a dresser up against the wall.

Ian wanted to go inside to investigate and snoop around for some answers to questions that blossomed from this discovery but then he heard the shower shut off. 

Startled, he closed the door and went to sit on the couch. He had his hands in his lap like some teenage boy waiting with his partner's father before hoco, even though he was sitting all alone with... 

When the bathroom door opened, he grabbed the dildo that was just standing upright on the coffee table so that his hands had something to do. 

"The fuck you doing?" Mickey asked, walking towards Ian. He was just clad in a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"Um, just chilling." Ian said, waving the dildo around in his hand. "You sure like 'em big. Hope I don't disappoint." 

"Fuck off." Mickey snatched the dildo and put it back in the drawer by his bed. "Want coffee or something?"'

"No, I'm good." Ian watched as Mickey crossed the apartment and entered the bedroom. A few minutes later, he emerged dressed in comfortable home clothes. Ian then asked, "What's that room for?" 

Mickey sat next to the redhead on the couch, brushing back his damp hair. "Just a spare." 

"There's a bed in there." Ian said. 

Mickey's eyebrows drew together, but he decided to not press Ian on the fact that he'd been snooping around. "For guests." 

"It's a small bed." Ian recalled, realising that he let slip that he was snooping. "I mean, I didn't mean to, I was just curious." 

"It's fine." Mickey dismissed, but he suddenly wore an uneasy expression. 

"It's okay if you don't wanna tell me what that room's for. It's just a room with a bed and shit. Even though you have a bed out here." 

"Long story." Mickey sighed. "Listen, I have work later tonight, so..." 

"My roommate should be back by then." Ian quickly said, but Mickey shook his head. 

"And that's cool, just, um... If they're not back by then, then it's fine by me if you, uh, wanna crash here again. Or wait here or whatever the fuck." Mickey's voice went low near the end as he stared at the magazines on the coffee table. 

"Did I just get invited to another sleepover?" Ian asked with a coy smile. 

"Fuck you was what you were invited to." Mickey mumbled and Ian laughed. 


	17. Chapter 17

Mickey never really knew how to be a good host. 

The only people that came over to his apartment was his club finds from BoysTown and his sister, Mandy. Sometimes his brothers stopped by too, but it was easy to just not be a good host to them because they were his siblings. 

And once he got a few orgasms out of his one night stands, they usually just left (or he kicked them out once he was done), so he never really had to worry about being hospitable. 

So right now, he was sort of at a lost on what to do with Ian. 

He basically just said they could hang out for the entire day until Ian's roommate came home or until it was Mickey's shift at the restaurant.

And he _hoped_ Ian left first because he just remembered Mandy would swing by around five or six so they can go to work together and he didn't really want his sister and his... boyfriend to meet just yet. 

They literally just started dating a couple hours ago. 

He wouldn't be able to prepare himself. 

But those were just problems for the Mickey of laterー the Mickey of right now however didn't know what to do. 

He had offered Ian a drink, some food and he cooked them lunch and they ate and talked comfortably. But there was still a few more hours to get by (not that he was trying to make time fly or anything, he was just in uncharted territory with this whole relationship business). 

He had some books they could read and some video games they could playー the TV was on an entertainment unit parallel to the bed up against the outer bedroom wall, so they could lie comfortably and play some _Left 4 Dead_ or whatever to pass the time. 

But that was such a... _friend_ thing to do. 

And Ian wasn't his friend. 

He was his _boy_ friend. 

And Mickey was sure as fuck they didn't do this mundane friend bonding shit like reading books and playing video games. 

So what else could they do? 

They could make out.

Luckily Ian initiated it first.

Fresh bedsheets and blankets were fixed onto the bed by the time Mickey was lying on top of it on his back with Ian leaning over him on his side. 

They were kissing rather tentatively even with tongue; Mickey hand his hand on Ian's cheek as Ian ran his own hand down Mickey's flank over his clothes. 

Curtains were drawn to make the apartment darker and the smack of their lips and ragged breaths were all they could hear. Somehow, it was deafening but also, very loud. 

Mickey arched his hips to press against Ian's crotch, lightly rubbing his slowly hardening dick against Ian's. He then dropped his hand from Ian's cheek, feeling down his boyfriend's firm body before slipping his hand underneath the band of Ian's sweats.

"Hey, Mick?" Ian soon asked in a low voice, breaking their kiss.  

"Yeah?" 

"I don't know if this is going too fast, but are we..." 

"What?" 

"Are we gonna, you know... do it?" 

Mickey moved his head back into the pillows to look at Ian incredulously, taking his hand back out. He was acting like some kind wholesome virgin. "You don't wanna?"

"No! No, I do. I do." Ian quickly said. "It's just that, um, we _just_ started dating andー"

"What, you don't want me putting out on the first date or some shit?" 

"See, no, that's the thing. We haven't even been on a date yet. And I just... I don't really have sex with people I'm not sure I have a connection with, you know, like, emotionally." Ian pointed out and suddenly Mickey was annoyed. 

"Our dicks get fucking hard when we kiss, you jacked me off at the diner and this morning you were grinding your cock hard against me." Mickey listed. "We're sexually attracted to each other, what other fucking connection do you need to have sex?"

"Like I said, an emotional connection." Ian repeated, sitting upright. He looked down on Mickey and continued, "I wanna feel emotionally connected to you before we have sex." 

"You're not?" Mickey asked. "You like me, I like you. Or did that change in the last two fucking seconds?" 

"It didn't change, Mick." Ian sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. 

"Then what's the deal? We've been talking for weeksー"

"Yeah, as _friends_." Ian interrupted. "We're not friends anymoreー we're in a relationship. It's different now." 

"I'm still the same person I was when we were friends. Nothing new, I'm still a chef, I'm still working at a restaurantー" 

"I know. I know you're still the same, but I just wanna know you more. I wanna know you in ways friends don't know each other." 

"Friends don't kiss, so I think we're already off to a good start," 

"Is it bad I wanna be emotionally connected to you some more before we fuck?" Ian exasperated. "Is it bad I wanna go on dates and hang out and meet your friends and just make out before we fuck?" 

"Ian..." Mickey sighed. "You know, there's no right order to do this shit in. You wanna fuck, then we fuck. You wanna talk, then we talk." 

"I just don't wanna invest myself in a relationship that's just... Like a fling." 

"You think if we have sex now, it's a fling?" Mickey asked, getting more and more confused. 

Ian was all over him one minute and now he wants to take things slow? 

What the hell? 

"I don't know how I'd feel after we do it. If we ever do it. I don't... really have sex with people these days just to have sex." 

"When's the last time you got laid?" 

Ian drew his brows together in thought. "Maybe a year ago? Two? Been a long fucking time."

"You're shitting me, right?" Mickey said suspiciously, looking Ian up and down. 

"I shit you not." Ian said with a smile. 

"You're a fucking prude. A hypocritical prude." 

"Says he who got shy after begging me to jack him off at the diner." Ian mocked. Mickey playfully hit him. "Look, Mickey. I really like you. I do. I just don't want our relationship to just be about sex. I wanna take you out and stuff. You know, when I actually have access to my wallet and phone." 

"You do realise you're giving me mixed signals here, right?" Mickey said, glancing down at Ian's bulge. Ian coughed shyly, grabbing a pillow to cover his crotch. 

"I didn't think you'd wanna be in a relationship with me this morning. So yeah, I may have come off a little strong with, you know, the dick grinding. But now we're on the same page... We're dating now. So I wanna make it last, if that makes sense." 

Mickey nodded, slowly getting Ian's concept. "Last for how long?" 

Ian shrugged. "I don't know? Forever, maybe? I don't know. I give my all into relationships. I'm getting old. I don't wanna waste my time with short term relationships. I wanna find the one, settle down and live happily ever after with them. It could be you. It could not. I just want my intentions clear when I date someone. And I hope they're clear now that I'm dating you."

There were a lot of things Mickey wanted to say to thatー how he completely understood and sympathises with him. How that's exactly what he wants too in a relationshipー someone to wake up to, someone to hold at night. But all that came out of his mouth was, "You're twenty-fucking-three years old." 

Ian looked at Mickey, completely floored. He then laughed. "I won't be for long." 

"Guess not." Mickey smiled, extending his hand out and pulling Ian back down for a kiss. 


	18. Chapter 18

Turns out that staying _completely_ celibate wasn't possible, so they ended up jacking each other off. 

It was now four in the afternoon; cleaned up and pliant, Ian and Mickey lied on the bed, breathing in each other's scent. 

The silence between them was comfortableー Ian had his head tucked under Mickey's arm as Mickey played with Ian's hair, threading his fingers through the medium strands. 

Ian guessed that his roommate would be home around seven; about the same time Mickey's got to be at the restaurant for his shift, so the possibility of Mandy meeting Ianー now no longer as the Mystery Lemon Man, but as Ian, his boyfriend, was very possible. 

Mickey could care less about that right now as he was still calming down from his natural high. He just hoped she wasn't going to be embarrassing anymore so than he already has.

In that moment, he decided to come clean with his thoughts he may or may not have spilt with his sister. (He probably have said at least a dozen couple embarrassing things about Ian over the years and he knew she most likely catalogued every single word).

He spoke up, "Sorry." 

Ian, on the cusp of sleep, hummed. "For what?"

"I'm a hypocrite, too." Mickey clarified.

"What do you mean?"

"For the longest time, I've... liked you. And I've always wanted a relationship with you," 

Ian moved his head back to look at Mickey's profile, "Aw, really?" 

"Nn, shut up." Mickey quickly said. Ian chuckled. "I've always wanted to be with you but before we got to thatー which I never  _knew_ we'd ever get to itー I just... I don't know, I guess I just wanted to fuck you." 

"How vulgar," Ian teased but that only stressed Mickey out. 

"Look man, I'm tryna tell you how I fuckin' feel, okay?" 

"You're doing great, sweetie." Ian smiled when he noticed Mickey's cheeks redden. "Go on." 

"Forget it." Mickey sighed, clearly too embarrassed to continue.

Ian turned onto his side, digging his elbow into the pillows and leaning his head on his shoulder. "Mickey, please. I'll shut up." 

Mickey sighed, closing his eyes. "Look, basically, I just, if I ever did get to sleep with you, that'sー that's all that would be. But then we started talking, and kissing and now we're  _actually_ together, I just thought that that's something we do." 

"Sex?" Ian inquired. Mickey nodded. "It is something we do." 

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was trying to pressure you or anything. Didn't mean to. Wanted this for a long time. This is fucking stupid." 

Ian laughed, bringing his free arm up to cup Mickey's cheek with his hand. "It's not stupid. Thanks for telling me that." He assured, bringing Mickey in for a chaste kiss. "Feel better now?" 

"Guess so." Mickey said. "I guess I just wanted to say that I get it now. Completelyー where you're coming from. It's what I wanted; to do things the way you said you wanted to do them. Dates and shit. I just forgot 'cause I got so excited and I didn't know what else to do and I don't want you thinking that all I want from this relationship is sex. I'm not... an addict or anything creepy like that. I just like it. A lot. But I can live without it if it means you'd be comfortable." He ended up babbling, eyes avoiding Ian's intense gaze. 

It was silent for a hot moment; Mickey decided Ian was either trying process that or trying to find the most polite way to get the fuck outta here. 

But nothing happened. 

Just the calm and even breaths from them both. 

"You can fuckin' say something now. Please." Mickey snapped. 

"I like sex too, Mickey." Ian said, eyes gazing down the length of Mickey's body. "I miss it." He laughed pathetically, rubbing a circle on Mickey's shoulder with a finger. "But like I said, I want this to work so if, you know, I'm being too  _prudish_ or whateverー and this is probably gonna sound really gay, but I want our first time to be special." 

"What, you're thinking flowers and candles and shit?" Mickey asked, incredulously.

"No, I don'tー don't tease me." He lightly pinched Mickey's skin. "I meant like, it doesn't have to be planned, it just has to be right. When our hearts and minds and dicks are in the same place." 

Mickey hummed. "That sounds really gay." 

"I know," Ian chuckled. He then settled back down, his head on the pillow with his body turned to face Mickey. "I wanna get to know you. Like, what's your last name, when's your birthday. All that trivial shitー your favourite colour; your lucky number. Your favourite book since you have a million of them around here and what do you see yourself doing in the next five years." 

"Sounds like you're in a rush to know me." 

"Can you blame me?" Ian asked. 

"We have time." Mickey assured. "I'm not going anywhere." He leaned in close, slotting his lips against Ian's in a slow and lazy kiss. 

They then fell asleep after that. 


	19. Chapter 19

Mickey had forgotten to set an alarm. 

It didn't really matter though because the  _loud ass banging_ on his front door startled him awake. 

Jumping up, he palmed the sleep away from his eyes, groaning dramatically when the banging wouldn't stop. 

"Who the fuck's that?" Ian grumbled, trying to bury himself deeper into the pillows. 

"My fuckin' sister." Mickey said, sitting in his slumped position as he waited for his sight to return. Ian was up and wide awake. 

"Oh, shit." Ian yawned, rubbing his eyes and sliding out of bed. "Should I hide?" 

"Huh?" Mickey looked at Ian with knitted brows. "Hide? No. What for? It's just my sister." The brunet rolled out of bed, "Shut up!" He shouted when Mandy's persistence did not cease. 

"Open up, fuckface! It's cold in the hallway!" She shouted back. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood. He placed his hands on Ian's shoulder and guided the redhead to sit back down on the bed. "She's gonna kill me if I try keep you a secret. Or... unless you don'tー" 

"No, I do. I do." Ian nodded. "It's barely been a day and already I'm meeting your sister." 

"Bound to happen." Mickey smiled, kissing the top of Ian's head and scratching his hair. He then turned on his heel, disappearing down the short hall to answer the door. "God, break the door, why don't you?" 

"Why's it so dark in here?" Mandy complained, scrunching her nose up. She flipped the lights on and pushed past Mickey into the apartment. "Oh, hello." 

"Hi." Ian said with a small wave. 

Mandy looked at Mickey who moved to sit next to Ian on the bed. "Who... who's this?" 

"Ian, this is my sister, Mandy. Mandy, Ian." He introduced rather sleepily. 

"Your... boyfriend?" She asked with caution, knowing how iffy her brother is with that word. 

Ian spared a glance at Mickey who seemed all choked up on it. He looked up at Mandy. "Yeah. We just started dating this morning."

"Oh. Oh, okay. Okay." She said, walking backward until the back of her thighs hit the arm of the couch. "Huh." 

"What  _huh_." Mickey asked. 

"You have a boyfriend." She repeated as if it was such a foreign concept for her to grasp. 

"Yeah, so?" He retorted, sounding offended. He soon felt Ian's hand press against the small of his back as some kind of comfort. It worked. 

"No, it's great. I'm happy for you, Mick. It's just..." She shrugged her shoulder, eyeing Ian cautiously. "What happened to the balcony boy you've been crushing on for years?"

Ian said, "That would be me," the same time Mickey nodded his head towards Ian. 

Mandy squinted, looking between the two before her face dropped. "Mystery Lemon Man!" 

"Mystery Lemon Man?" Ian asked, looking at Mickey. 

Mickey slapped a hand over his face, "I told you his name's Ian." He whined. 

Ian stood up a bit, extending his hand out to shake Mandy's. "Ian Gallagher, balcony boy." 

She made an amused face, taking his hand. "Mandy Milkovich, sister of the guy who's obsessed with the balcony boy. Nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you too." He sat back on the bed. "Milkovich, huh?" 

"Gallagher." Mickey tested.

"Mickey Gallagher." Mandy teased. Mickey leaned back on the bed to grab a pillow before pelting it at his sister. "Just trying it out, gosh. You guys were asleep?" 

Ian and Mickey shared a glance, but that was more than enough for Mandy to jump. 

"I knew the place smelt a little funny." She brought a finger up to her nose and sniffed.

"Shut the fuck up, we didn't do anything."

"Okay, sure." Mandy deadpanned. "So, how'd this happen?" She asked, pointing between the two. 

"Long story." Mickey said. 

"You said that last time," Mandy recalled. 

"This time, it's actually a fucking long story." He confessed.  

"And last time wasn't?" 

"I'm gonna go pee." Ian said, clapping his hands together. He excused himself and went into the bathroom, leaving the two Milkovich siblings in a stare off. 

Mandy won. 

"Okay, what. What!" Mickey said in a harsh whisper. 

"Nothing, I didn't say anything." She said, lifting her hands up in defence. "He's cute. Is it serious?" 

"What? I don't know... We just started dating." Mickey said, shrugging. "I don't really wanna talk to you about this." 

"You know you're gonna end up doing just that, right?" She said. He sighed. "C'mon, go get ready for work, you sack of sad shit." 

"Fuck you." Mickey mumbled. 


	20. Chapter 20

Ian felt hot underneath Mandy's gaze. Not the sexy kind of hotー it was the kind of hot that left you sweaty and uncomfortable. 

Not that Mandy made him sweaty and uncomfortableー it was looking at a female Mickey. 

But in that case, she had this auraー a strong aura about her, like the guards Mickey had up.

It was clear she was sizing him up. 

After chucking a piss, Mickey went into that lone bedroom saying something about getting ready for work. 

It has been a solid half hour since then and all he and Mandy has done was stare at each other. 

Okay, maybe not just that _entirely,_ they did exchange pleasantries like _where do you work, how's that going for you, how old are you_ and such. 

Mandy was the same age as himー twenty-three, working as a bartender at the same restaurant Mickey bakes his goodies for. 

He deduced quickly that they were closeー working together, visiting each other (well Mandy coming over before their shift) and just having this familiar air about them that adult siblings who spend a lot of time together have. 

So it made sense that Mandy wanted to be the protective (little) sister. 

But this was just fucking awkward. 

They were barely talking when Ian more than half expected a full on interrogation. 

He wished Mickey came out like, right now.

Mandy apparently had the same thought, "Mick, hurry the fuck up, we're gonna be late!" She received no response so she huffed out in annoyance. 

Ian felt the urge to just talk. "So, you and him are close, huh?" He already knew the answer was yes; this was just for conversational purposes. 

Mandy looked at him like she wasn't sure if he said something. But then it processed in her mind and she nodded. "Yeah. We're the babies of a family of five. I'm the youngest thoughー and the only girl." She frowned. "You have any siblings?" 

"Uh, yeah." Ian said. "There's six of us. I got three brothers and two sisters." 

"Oh, nice." Mandy nodded, soaking in that small piece of information. "You any close?" 

Ian felt himself hesitant to answer. Luckily, he didn't have toー Mickey finally emerged from the room. 

"What'chu guys talking about?" He asked, dressed in a smart black casual attire and lugging a large satchelー probably holding all of his tools.

"Nothing," Both Ian and Mandy said, somewhat relieved to see Mickey. 

The brunet stared at the two strangely before he went over to the bed, laying down his satchel before checking his pockets for his phone, wallet and keys. 

"You ready to go?" Mandy asked, eager to leave. 

"Alright, alright. Hold your fucking horses." Mickey groaned, checking the time. They were pressed for time, but he felt like he couldn't leave just yet. 

He looked at his sister then at Ianー then back at his sister, hands on his hips. 

Mandy seemed to have understood the silent sibling language and got up from where she'd been leaning on the couch's armrest. 

"I'll just go fucking powder my nose for five minutes then." She deadpanned, walking over and into the bathroom, seeming to have gotten the memo that Mickey didn't want to show his _gay_ in front of her. 

Once Mandy was in the bathroom, Mickey turned to face Ian. "So your roommate wouldn't be back, would they?" 

"I mean, I could check. I highly doubt it though." Ian said with a slight frown. 

"Um, okay. Listen," Mickey walked over to the bedside table and rummaged through the first drawer. He then produced a key. "If you're still locked out or whatever, here's a spare key."

Ian stared at the silver key in awe and Mickey blushed. 

"I'm not proposing to you, Gallagher, it's just so that if you go to check, and you're still locked out, you can crash here for a bit." Mickey clarified, wishing Ian would just take the goddamn key already. 

"Crash here for the night?" Ian asked just for the sake of it and Mickey shrugged. 

"Wouldn't be opposed... to that. My shift ends at two." Mickey informed. Ian smiled widely, gingerly taking the key from him. 

"I'll go check, then." Ian said. 

"Okay." Mickey said, lingering in his spot in front of the redhead before snapping out of his daze. He picked up his satchel and prepared to leave. "Okay, then. I'll see you later? Or not. I mean, if you decide to stay or... The key, if your roommate's back, you can justー" 

"I'll see you later." Ian interrupted, extending his hand out. He wrapped his fingers around the back of Mickey's neck, pulling the chef down in for a sloppy and wet kiss. 

When they parted, Mickey cheeks were coloured pinkー lips slick and plump. 

"Make yourself at home." Mickey lightly said, standing up straight and bringing his satchel around to cover his front. Ian chuckled, amused at Mickey's innocent reaction before watching him disappear down the small hallway. 

Once he and Mandy left for work, Ian decided to go out on the balcony. 

The air was cool and refreshingー it felt nice against his heated skin. 

He looked over towards his balcony and the experience was strange; this is what Mickey saw when he was on the other side. 

And for some strange reason, it felt like it's been ages since he and Mickey had balcony conversations, even though it's technically only been a day. 

Spending the entire day with Mickey felt like spending an eternity, an idea he doesn't mind at all. 

"The fuck are you doing over there?" 

Ian felt his heart jump at the sudden voice coming from across the balcony. He turned to look at the source, immediately calm. 

He walked over towards his own balcony, leaning on the rails to greet his roommate. "Hey, Karen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be a little longer from here on out!


	21. Chapter 21

"When did you get home?" Ian asked, passing back the cigarette Karen decided to share. She pressed her back against the railing as Ian leaned his forearms over Mickey's balcony.

She took a drag, shrugging. "This morning."

Ian's eyebrows drew together and he frowned. "So you were here the whole day?" He asked.

"Not the _whole_ day, but yeah." Karen said. "Mom was being a fuckin' pain, wanted to spend the whole day building bears and shit for Hymie. He's got enough of that shit already, so I left before they woke up." 

Ian made grabby hands for Karen's smoke, "Mother of the year." He mused. 

"Shut up," she snapped. She took another drag before handing the cigarette back over. "Still didn't tell me what the fuck you're doing over there." 

Ian inhaled the stick, "I jumped." 

"You jumped?" 

"Yeah."

Karen cocked her head to the side, "Why the fuck did you that, you tryna rob the guy's place or some shit? He on holiday?" 

"What? No. No!" Ian was flustered, understanding how abnormal this may seem to outsiders. "No, we uh, his name is Mickey. We're dating." 

Karen raised an eyebrow. "Dating?" 

"Yeah." Ian smiled, passing back her smoke. "Yeah, since this morning. We've been talking for a while and then I... came over here and asked him out. He's really cool. I like him a lot." 

"Really cool, huh, Gallagher?" Karen said, mocking his choice of words. "You gay guys sure are weird." She shrugged, finished the smoke and tossing it over the balcony. "Guess it explains why you're always out here when you can just smoke inside." 

"We technically aren't allowed to," Ian drifted. 

Karen ignored him, "So, he cute? Good in bed?" 

Ian blushed. "Uh, no, we haven't done anything yet. Kinda." 

Karen rolled her eyes, "Don't give me that _kinda_ bullshit, you either banged or you haven't." 

"We jerked each other off." Ian confessed. "Jesus, Karen, we _just_ started dating, sex won't come till later." And Ian hated how his voice wavered at the end of that. 

"Since when were you such a fucking prude?" She asked, immediately knowing the answer to her own question. She let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "You know, there's a reason why your last relationships fucked up." 

"Wow, gee, thanks." Ian deadpanned. 

"You get so hypocritical." Karen said and Ian knew where the conversation was headed. It always came whenever he entered a new relationship and somehow, Karen felt the need to always point out where he went wrong. 

At first, he wondered why Karen fucking Jackson of all people, cared about his relationshipsー whether they worked out or not. But it wasn't until a one drunken night confession from the blonde did he realise why she did care a lot. 

"You always talk about the prospects of forever and hoping this guy is _the guy_ , sprout this nonsense of how fucking perfect you are, and how relationships are done in specific nineteen-fifty's wooing of dating for years before fucking once, but then when it gets _super_ dead serious, as in _let's meet the fam_ , you shit yourself and break up with him." Karen said, but it wasn't anything he hasn't heard before.

He doesn't even know why he lets her say things he already knowsー maybe it's because he doesn't do anything to change his behaviours is why she always repeats herself.

"I don't _shit_ myself," Ian muttered and Karen sighed.

"Caleb," She began and Ian groaned dramatically, now having to suffer through her list of his ex boyfriends. "Good guy. Stable income. Got you your job now, made you not wanna off yourself with how useless of a life you have given yourself."

Ian rolled his eyes as she continued, "You broke up with him because he invited you to a wedding when you guys were practically _living_ together, saying some bullshit story about how commitment _scares_ you or whatever," she said, using quotation marks. "Fucking stupid since you _wanted_ commitment, aka a life partner." 

"We just weren't a good match," Ian found himself all defensive. 

In a louder, more annoyed voice, Karen said, " _Then_ there was Trevor. Also a good guy, probably more relatable since he was the same age as you, and you broke up with him because you didn't wanna take him to your mom's funeral, staying that he's not allowed to go even though you two basically were close to exchanging your gay boy vows." She exaggerated.

"It wasn't that I didn't want _him_ to go, _I_ didn't want to go." Ian stressed out. 

Karen folded her arms, "And why was that? Oh, right, because you haven't been fucking home since you were sixteen and were too chicken shit to tell anyone you dated that you ran away and haven't spoken to them in years." 

Ian blanched, unsure of what to say to that. 

Karen looked at him triumphantly. "I keep telling you that's your fucking problem. You wanna get serious with someone without realising what that fucking _means_. And what that fucking _means_ is that you _tell them_ about your family, Ian." 

"Why does it matter if I tell them or not?" Ian sighed. 

"Because... don't you want them to be your family too?" She asked. Ian's silence indicated that this was a topic that should be dropped, and being his somewhat guardian since he was sixteen, she changed gears from nosy, bitchy roommate to a faux mother. "You eat anything yet?" 

Ian shook his head. Karen nodded, motioning him to stay put as she went back inside. She came back a few minutes later with a small round container that held fruit, a bottle of water and Ian's meds. 

She handed it over to him in which he took gratefully. 

"You staying there tonight?" She then asked, watching as Ian eats and takes his pills. 

"Yeah." Ian answered, not really feeling like going back home after what she said. He knew it was all for his benefit and it wasn't like he hasn't had this talk with her before, it's just been a while since he's been in a relationship and spending the whole day with Mickey left his emotions on a cloud. Hearing her truth bomb sucked.

"Is he there?" 

"He's at work."

"He's letting you stay?" 

"I said you were coming back later tonight so he gave me a spare key so I wasn't locked out in case you weren't home by the time he finished his shift." 

"When's he coming back?" 

"Two." 

Karen nodded, taking that all in. "You really like him a lot, huh?" She asked, letting that be her last question for the night. 

Ian's smile returned. "I do."

She returned the smile, albeit small. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, Ian Gallagher. If you like someone, you gotta be honest. Who knows, maybe he can relate. Maybe he'll understand. Nothing's worse than doubting someone and assuming the worse." 

"How can I even keep someone if I tell them about my family? How can I keep Mickey from freaking out? He's a family guy, I can tell. He's very close with his sister..." Ian said, looking down. 

"Ian, if he likes you, he won't care that you have still have your old number active so that your siblings can text you things about what's going on with them, and tell you they miss you everyday, even though they don't know if you ever see it." Karen said, voice uncharacteristically soft. 

Ian clenched his jaw, always feeling guilty for not replying everytime they texted him. 

He just felt too ashamed to go back to them and now it's been so long. 

"Stop thinking too much about what other people might think, just go with the flow. If it feels right, it feels right. Just relax, Ian." Karen said, taking back the stuff she gave to him. "And get laid. Soon." 

Ian finally let himself laugh. 

*

When Mickey came home, he was surprised to see Ian asleep in his bed. 

It wasn't like he was wishing to come home to Ian or anything, nope. Not what he was wishing for _at all_. 

But now that Ian was here, Mickey couldn't contain his giddiness. 

God, he was such a weirdo, getting all flustered because his boyfriend (and that was even so foreign of him to say), was doing something as simple as sleeping over. 

Fuck, Mickey even _said_ he was okay with that. But his heart wasn't having any of it, beating as fast and hard as a drum. 

He inhaled sharply when Ian stirred, probably because he came into the apartment noisily and turned on the light. 

"Hey, you're back." Ian said, voice all sexy despite it being sleep clogged. He snuggled into the pillow, giving Mickey a dreamy as fuck smile. 

He looked like an idiot standing in the middle of the living room with a stunned expression. He forced himself to snap out of his Ian induced coma and cocked his head to the side. "You're here." 

 _Wow, yes, fuckhead, of course he's here_. 

Mickey scrambled for an elaboration, "I mean, your roommate never came back?" He asked. 

Ian sat up, rubbing his eye and letting out a yawn. "No, she came back. She actually came back this morning." 

"Oh." Mickey said. "Oh, okay." And then Mickey's mind went haywire, flooded with a million questions.

_So... what did this mean?_

_He wanted to be here?_

_But why?_

_His roommate came back this morning?_

_He decided to stay inside of going home?_

_But... what does that mean?_

_He likes my place better or..._

_Or he couldn't be bothered going back home yet?_

_Or... he wants to sleep over here with me?_

_He wants to sleep with me?_

_But what exactly does that mean...?_  

"What's in the bag?" Ian asked, pulling Mickey out of his head. He nodded towards the brown paper bag Mickey was holding in his hand, clearly curious. 

But Mickey didn't really register the question. "Um..." 

Ian frowned at what he assumed was the brunet being hesitant. "Sorry, Mick. I can leave if you're uncomfortable with me staying over here again." He made a move to leave the bed but Mickey shook his head almost comically. 

"No, um, I didn't... You can stay here, idiot." Mickey said, kicking off his shoes and sitting down next to Ian on the bed. He placed his satchel on the floor and the brown paper bag in between them. "I already said before it was okay." 

"I know this whole thing probably seems overbearing and borderline clingy," Ian said, shrugging. "I don't know, I guess I just feel really at ease when I'm with you. Comfortable. It's nice." 

Mickey felt his cheeks heat up at that. "I, no, I like that you're here, too." He said, nodding. "I'm glad that you're here actually. I brought you something from work." 

Mickey opened the bag up and produced a container filled with pastry. "These are the left over profiteroles that I made... thought you might like to have some so I brought 'em home." He said, suddenly shy. "Don't usually do that; I get sick after working with sweets  a lot so I usually chuck just this shit out, but uh..." 

"You thought of me?" Ian finished, taking the offered container of chocolate profiteroles. 

Mickey shrugged. "You seemed really happy when I made the tarts so..."

"I was really happy, Mickey." Ian assured, unable to wipe his smile away. He then leaned in, kissing Mickey smack on the lips. "Thank you." 

"Yeah." Mickey breathed out. "You're welcome."

Ian then looked at the container now in his lap, opening the lid up and taking the bite sized pastry into his mouth. The sound he made as he ate it was unacceptably orgasmic, it made Mickey's head spin. 

"Holy shit, this is so fucking good!" Ian exclaimed, mouth full of cream. 

Mickey chuckled, grabbing a profiterole and shoving it into Ian's open mouth. "Don't talk with food in your mouth. It's fucking rude." 

"Oh, is it?" Ian questioned with a muffled voice, leaning closer toward Mickey to gross him out with his food infested mouth. 

Mickey, in turn leaned back, "Yeah, man. Fuck," he pushed Ian back just as Ian shoved a profiterole into his mouth almost forcibly. 

"Who's talking with their mouth full now, huh!" Ian teased and ultimately, he had began the profiterole war. 

And it was no surprise to either of them that it ended up with them making out, half clothed, completely hard with cream and chocolate all over their faces and giggles between their lips.

The small pastry had been messily devoured; some had dropped to the floor, some were on the bed; but neither cared about the crumbs and the food stains; all that consumed their minds now was each other. 

And how right this all felt. 


	22. Chapter 22

Mickey was fast to learn that waking up with Ian in his bed had its pros and cons. 

Pros: It was _Ian_. He was warm against his back and he made his big bed feel small and confortable. Ian also smelt really nice and his arm draped over his waist made Mickey feel so secure. 

It was oddly satisfying and Mickey wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to this form of physical contactー but he sure as hell would be more than willing to try. 

But with the pros, comes the cons, and the con to this was that fucking _monster dick_ pressed against his backside. 

Actually, that was more of a pro but that pro had a con to it and that _con_ was wondering when he'd ever get to take care of that _thing_. 

He was hard in his boxers too, it was a given, morning wood and all that shitー obviously it filled a little more than usual since Ian was practically fucking his tailbone, but still. 

It was just so big. 

Vageuly, whenever Ian jacked them off, he could maybe determine the size when it was sliding against his own; thick, long, maybe a few inches biggerー it's not like he could really tell when his mind was shrouded in all things Ian. 

Slowly, Mickey turned over so that he could face Ianー another pro was seeing how well Ian wore sleep so well on his face. 

God, he was just so beautiful. 

Mickey let himself stare for a few minutes (maybe a half hour at most) before deciding to get up and chuck a piss. 

Coming back out into the living room, he finally saw the messy state of the apartment; profiteroles on the ground; clothes thrown everywhere. He wanted to start cleaning up when Ian stirred awake. 

"Mornin'." He greeted, a smile reaching his lips before his eyes could fully open. 

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Mickey asked, picking up the clothes on the way back to the bed. He threw them at the end of the bed before coming to sit by Ian. 

"Good, you?" 

"Yeah, good." Mickey said. "Do you have work today?" 

Ian hummed, "It's Sunday, yeah? Don't work weekends." He informed. "You?" 

"Uh, no." Mickey said, shaking his head. "Only six days." 

"So we're both free on Sunday's, huh? We're both free today?" Ian slowly sat up, looking at Mickey with dreamy eyes. Mickey's breath caught in his throat and he glanced down with a nod. 

"I guess we are." 

"Do you wanna go out on a date?" Ian suddenly asked. "If you're not too busy." 

"Today?"

"Well... yeah." 

 _Of course today, you fucking idiot!_ "Oh." 

Ian laughed, "You can say no, Mickey, it's fine." He brushed Mickey's hair back with his fingers. "I won't be hurt." 

"No. No, I wanna go. Yeah, I wanna go on a date with you." Mickey quickly said, leaning into Ian's touch. Ian began petting and scratching Mickey like a little pup. 

"Okay." He smiled. "I should probably get back to my apartment then and get ready. I'll come back around and pick you up at..." He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, "one?" 

Mickey hummed. "Mhm, yeah. One sounds good." He agreed, lolling his head heavily into Ian's palm. 

"That feel good, huh?" Ian asked, running his blunt nails against Mickey's scalp. Mickey hummed again, looking at Ian. 

Ian swallowed deeply, looking right back at  Mickey before guiding him onto his lap, the said man eagerly moving accordingly. 

As if it was orchestrated, Ian slid Mickey's boxers down to his thighs just as Mickey pulled down Ian's sweats before rubbing their half hard dicks together and crashing their lips in a harsh kiss. 

Ian was quick to take a hold of their cocks, jerking them in his hand tight and fast; Mickey bucked into the sensation, pushing Ian to lie on his back. 

The soft slide of their tongues had a tinge of sweetness to it; most likely from the patisserie they had last night and Ian moaned at the memory. Mickey was a good kisserー Ian fell weak everytime their lips touched but he wasn't about to be swayed by this kiss. 

He wanted Mickey to come undone first and he'd be damned if he came just because they were making out. 

Ian rolled them over so he was on top of Mickey, kissing his lips hard and wet before kissing down the pale skin of Mickey's neck, collarbone, sternum and stomach, all the while jerking him off. 

Mickey moaned breathlessly, arching his back into the touch, grabbing the sheets until his knuckles went whiteー the feel of Ian's tongue hot and heavy on his dick. 

"Fuck, Ian!" The brunet growled, biting his lower lip until the skin broke. Ian was quick to go to town, bobbing his head up and down Mickey's shaft; saliva dribbling down his chin. 

The taste was intoxicating; the natural scent Mickey emitted made Ian's heart thump dangerously in his chest. He licked and sucked Mickey's dick, fondling his balls with no reservations. 

It was all over embarrassingly fast; Mickey's breaths were shallow and unsteady. He stared up at the ceiling with stars in his eyes before mustering up the courage to look down just body at Ian. 

Ian slowly sat up, mouth full as he straddled Mickey's thighs. His eyes locked onto Mickey's directly as he poured Mickey's come out of his mouth and onto his hand. With that, he started stroking his dick, using the jizz as lubricant, coming a few minutes later onto Mickey's stomach. 

Mickey watched in total awe, unsure of what to do. He inhaled shakily, feeling Ian's come paint his skin before the redhead slumped forward. In turn, Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian, fingers automatically stroking the back of Ian's hair.

"Wow." Ian laughed lightly against Mickey's ear, holding himself up by his forearms.

"Yeah, fuck." Mickey replied, calming down from his high. "All ready a quickie before going out on our date." 

Ian hummed, moving his head to face Mickey. "Are you mad?" He asked, realising he'd never put his mouth on Mickey's dick before. 

"Now why would I be mad?" Mickey obviously didn't care as he pulled Ian down for a kiss. After that, Ian left to go get ready for their date.

Mickey needed a moment to himself before deciding he should take a shower. 

It was midday now. He had some time to get his shit together before their first official date.

*

By the time Mickey was freshly washed, nicely dressed and smelling good, he made his way down the building via elevator to see that Ian was already waiting downstairs. 

"Hey," Ian greeted with a kiss to Mickey's cheek. "You look nice." 

"So do you." Mickey said, feeling his cheeks heat up. Fucking nerd, he needed to calm down. "Where we going?" He asked, letting Ian take his hand. 

The redhead lead Mickey towards a modest looking car, opening the door and gesturing for the brunet to sit inside. Mickey rolled his eyes at the chivalry but nevertheless complied, sitting comfortably in shotgun as Ian closed to door shut. 

Ian rounched the car and got into the driver's seat, making a point that Mickey should buckle inー safety first and all that shitー before starting the car and driving into the main road. 

"You ever been to a museum before?" Ian suddenly asked after a moment's silence. 

"Uh, no." Mickey answered, kinda getting the feeling that that's where Ian was going to take him. 

"Me neither," Ian said. "Not really my kind of scene, you know, the whole _looking at art shit_. Plus, people treat the museum like it's a library, it's always quiet."

Mickey raised a brow. "You don't like the quiet?" 

"I like quiet." Ian shrugged. "But for a date, I think there's no privacy. Everyone can hear you, hear what you're saying so no one says anything at all. And I wanna hear you talking to me."

"Oh." Mickey said, looking at his hands in his lap. He knew his ears were red now; heart pounding in it. "So we're not going to a museum?" 

"Did you wanna?" Ian asked, turning to look at Mickey at a red light. 

Mickey returned the look, "Not really." 

"Okay then no, I wasn't going to take you to a museum." 

"Then why'd you ask?" 

Ian shrugged again, "Just wanted to know if you're a museum kind of guy." 

"You're fucking weird." Mickey mumbled and Ian laughed at that. "Where are we going?" 

"The dugouts." Ian said, eyes back on the road. 

"The dugouts?" Mickey repeated like a dumbass who couldn't process things quickly enough. He never would've guessed Ian would take him some place he hasn't been in since he was a teenager.

"Yeah," Ian cheerily confirmed, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on Mickey's knee. He squeezed, "Then afterwards, I'll take you to Sizzler's."

Mickey blanched. "Oh, how romantic."

Ian laughed. "Fuck yeah."


	23. Chapter 23

It was like the gears had locked into place and everything was nothing but a smooth ride after their first date. 

The dugouts were a surprisingly nice setting for them to stroll around the hedges, watching the local team practiceー parents with their kids and couples with their dogsー it was a calm atmosphere in comparison to their hectic morning. 

They held hands too, which Mickey grew to be self conscious about after he felt his hand getting sweaty. Ian commented on how _his_ hand was sweaty and they bickered about who's hand was the sweatiest. 

There was a food truck parked nearby and they bought their own food but shared it anyways, talking about nothingー talking about everything. 

_"What's your favourite colour?"_

_"You seriously asking this shit?"_

_"Yes, I wanna know! What is it?"_

_"Black."_

_"Oh, dark."_

_"Well, no shit, it's the darkest colour there."_

_"Technically it's a shade,"_

_"I'll be throwing you shade if don't pass over your fucking fries,"_  

After their small lunch, they found a shed just off to the side right behind the benches where Mickey took it upon himself to return the favour and go down on Ian. 

_"The fuck you feed this thing?"_

_"I'm just a good boy who eats his wheaties."_  

It took a while for Mickey to get Ian off and his jaw started to hurt with how wide he had to stretch his mouth over Ian's dick but as soon as the redhead came, the two of them damn near sped off back to the car upon hearing the groundskeeper entering the shed. 

Laughing and panting and wrestingling each other as they neared Ian's car, their lips soon met in a slow and sloppy kiss. Mickey felt himself being pushed against metal and Ian unlocked his car, shoving Mick into the back seat with him hovering on top. 

Closing the door behind him, Ian proceeded to strip Mickey off his pants completely before awkwardly leaning between the seats to fetch some lube in the glove compartment. 

 _"You have lube but no condoms?"_ Mickey asked with a raised eyebrow as Ian settled back in between Mickey's spread legs.

 _"I don't put out on the first date,"_ Ian smiled cheekily, slicking his fingers up. _"I just put my fingers in."_

Ian began to finger Mickey until he came all over his shirt, kissing and praising the brunet the entire time.

Ian soon left to get a blanket from the trunk to cover the now naked Mickey as he slept in the backseat; he began driving them around until it was time for dinner. 

Parking in the parking lot where there were surprisingly not a lot of patrons for a Sunday night, he woke Mickey up and told him to put his pants back on. Ian then rummaged around his trunk for some kind of shirt for Mickey to wear, only finding an old, Christmas coloured sweater Karen gave him from her mother one year. 

Mickey, to say in the least, was not happy about that. 

Sitting in a far back booth, they ordered their food, talked a whole lot more and this day became the catalyst for their growing relationship. 

And after that, they would go on dates every Sunday; Ian would sleep over Mickey's on Fridays and Saturdaysーor whenever he finished late, and he'd pick Mickey up after he was done at the restaurant. During the week, Mickey would come over and bring some pastry from work and they would sit and watch TV with Karen.

Sometimes Mandy would come over and hang too and the four of them got along quite harmoniously. 

The unspoken rule of _no sex_ wasn't even an issueー Mickey didn't care and Ian was grateful that they never fought over something like this. Sure, they knew getting each other off instead of getting _off_ together was going to get old, but right now, they were content. 

It was actually really nice, their slow pace.

It just felt right.

And they just somehow _knew_ that their first time together was going to be something special. 

Whenever that would beー it's not like they marked it on their calendars, nor did they talk about a time limit on how much time they should spend together for it to be deemed _good enough_ ー

When it's time, it's time. When they're both on the same page, then it's right. 

They had now been together for three months, going onto their fourth. 

Snuggled up in Mickey's bed with the television on showing some old war movie, they grew strangely domestic. They hadn't said a word since the movie started; instead they just basked in each other's presenceー Mickey's arm around Ian with Ian leaning his head on Mickey's chest. 

Half way through, Mickey finally spoke. "You awake?" He asked, unsure. He couldn't tell from his angle. 

Ian hummed. "Yeah. I'm falling asleep though." 

"Thought this was your kinda shit." 

"It is. Was. I don't know. Rather be making out with you." Ian said, twisting in the sheets so he was pressing his chest against Mickey's. 

"Gotta tell you something first." Mickey said. 

"Yeah?" 

Mickey swallowed hard, "I'm really happy with you, Ian. Like _really_ fucking happy." 

"Me too." Ian said softly, wary of Mickey's tone but trying his hardest to not read too much into it.

"And, um, it's going to be weird, I mean, I already know it's going to be weird but um," Mickey trailed off and a knot formed itself in the pit of Ian's stomach. 

"What is it, Mickey?" Ian asked, propping his upper body up with an elbow. 

"You can't... come over here this weekend." Mickey said slowly before realising how that sounded. "Just for this weekend. I... have some shit I gotta deal with." 

Ian pouted, "Is it illegal shit?" 

Mickey scoffed, shoving Ian lightly, "No, you egg. It's _not_ illegal shit. Just shit." 

"Is it shit you can share with me?" Ian asked slyly, raising a brow. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, "Not this shit." He said, palming Ian's cheek. "Not yet, anyway. Not ready." 

Ian nodded. "Okay." 

"Okay?"

The redhead shrugged, moving to lie down right next to Mickey. "I mean, if you're not ready to tell me what this shit is right now, it means maybe later you'll be ready. So okay. I'll wait until you are." 

Mickey looked at Ian, searching his eyes but not sure what exactly he was looking for. "You're curious, aren't you?" 

"Of fucking course I am." Ian quickly confirmed, making Mickey laugh. "My boyfriend has some shit he can't tell me about, and that's okay, but it just makes me wanna know what it is." 

"Thanks, Ian." Mickey said, linking his fingers with Ian's underneath the blanket. "It's only for this weekend." 

"You're not cheating on me or anything, right?" Ian asked suddenly and Mickey blanched. 

"Oh, yeah, cause I'm gonna fucking tell you that I need to spend the weekend away from you to cheat on you before I do it." 

Ian huffed, "Well, I don't know! Just wondering." 

Mickey squeezed Ian's hand really tightly, making the redhead squak, "I'm not cheating on you this weekend. Or any other weekend, for that matter!" 

"Ah-ah, okay! Okay!" Ian said, trying to pry his hand away. Mickey loosened his grip and smiled. Ian pouted again, "Your hand grip is really strong." 

"My thighs are even stronger." Mickey quipped and Ian laughed. 

"I don't doubt that." He said, snaking his hand down over Mickey's thighs and patting the bare flesh. "Do you reckon you could crack open a watermelon with these bad boys?" 

Mickey scoffed, "I could probably crack open your jaw, you dick."

Ian hummed as if he was contemplating that. "Hmm, rather have you just sit on it instead." He countered, turning his head to look at Mickey dead on. 

And that night was the first time Mickey rode Ian's face, making them both forget that this weekend would be the first weekend since they got together that they'd be apart.

*

Ian swears he isn't codependent as his bitch of a roommate said he was. 

When her teasing got too much, he snapped at her and wondered why the fuck she was home during the weekend.  

"I'm always home on the weekends, you cunt." She said, strolling into the lounge room with a bowl of cereal. She sat on the opposite end of the couch, back against the armrest as she ate her breakfast and stared at the jittery EMT. "You're just always at your _boooooyfriend's_  place to notice me here." 

"Shut up." Ian muttered, trying to busy himself on his phone. Her piercing gaze however irked him. "What? What!" 

"He has a side bitch or something? He secretly married?" She goaded on and Ian gave her the finger. 

"I don't know what he's doing today. Or tomorrow." Ian said dejectedly. "He's not cheating on me, I know that much." And that was a stupid thing to say, but he had a feeling she'd insinuate that. 

"That's exactly what a cheater would say." Karen said, earning herself a glare. "Sorry." 

"I said I didn't care, and I don't, but I do." Ian said, frowning. 

Karen drew her brows together, "Cause that makes fucking sense."

"You wouldn't understand," Ian dismissed, sinking back into the couch, slowly melting onto the floor. 

"Well, no shit, Gallagher." Karen rolled her eyes, scooping up some Frootloops into her mouth. 

"I just wanna know, but at the same time I know he'll tell me when he's ready, but that doesn't mean it's not bothering me. I'm just so _fucking_ curious." 

Karen didn't have a quick remark to that, but when she finally did reply, it was wit a sigh. "So I hate to drop the _h_ bomb," 

"I am _not_ a hypocrite." Ian grounded. 

Karen shot her shoulder up in a comical shrug, "I'm just saying that in the past..." 

"I haven't hidden anything from himー" Ian shut his mouth, rephrasing, "I mean, it hasn't come up yet so I don't need to talk about it, but _his_ shit has come up soー"

"Ian, the big fat hippo!" Karen shouted. "The biggest, _fattest_ hippo to have ever graced the land of the hippos!"

"I'm _not_ a hypocrite, Karen, fuck!" Ian shouted back just as petulantly as her. He rubbed his face. 

"How is this any different from when you didn't wanna take Trevor to your mom's funeral? You hiding the fact that you haven't seen your family in ten fucking thousand years?" She exaggerated to get her point across. "You weren't ready for that but you didn't tell him you weren't ready which ended up breaking you two up. You mean to say if Mickey doesn't tell you hisー whatever shit he's got going on todayー you're gonna break up with him? Cause he's not ready to tell you what it is?" 

"No, that's not it," He whined, now struggling to find the words to express how he's feeling. "I don't know!" 

"You're a hypocrite, Ian, just admit it and move on. Or change!" 

"I'm _not_ ," he adamantly denied, "Look, that thing with Trevorー it's different from this thing here with Mickey."'

"Why?" She questioned, "because the roles have switched? You're in the position where you don't know?" 

"No, it's not... It's because..." 

"Spit it out, Gallagher!"

Ian shrugged, "It's because it's Mickey?" He said as if that answer was enough of an explanation. "Fuck, it's _Mickey_. And he's different. Different from Trevor, different from Caleb. I don't know _how_ he's different but he _just is_. And this isn't the same." 

"Then tell me how is this situation different?" Karen said a little more quieter. "You gonna tell him all your baggage when it comes to it?" 

Ian felt his chest tighten and his stomach dropped. "I don't think I want him to carry the weight." 

"So you were sparing Traleb's feelings by cutting them loose before they get a hold of your big ass baggage? Which, by the fucking way, I'm also carrying if you haven't realised." Karen huffed. 

"Yes, but you'reー did you justー _Traleb?_ " Ian wasn't sure what he should adress first in Karen's response. 

She shrugged. "I'm innovative." 

Ian cringed. "Don't fucking say or do that again."

Rolling her eyes, she got up from her spot on the couch and moved to sit right next to him. "Look, Ian, what if Mickey has a lot of baggage too?" 

"All the more reason for him to not take on mine." 

"Isn't that why you're in a relationship though? To see if you can find the one who'll hold your hand when things get shitty?" Karen reasoned. "Or are you in this for shits and giggles?" 

"I like him a lot." Ian pouted. 

"Do you trust him?" She asked. 

Ian nodded almost immediately. "I do." 

"Then trust he'll tell you when he's ready. And also trust that he'll be there for you when you're ready to tell him your shit." Karen said, bumping shoulders with him. 

"I'm... scared. What if he runs away?" 

"Then you'll know he wasn't worth it." Karen simply concluded. "Better to know that than spending all this time wondering, right?" 

"I guess." Ian sighed.

"Now repeat after me," Karen began and Ian's brows knitted together in confusion. "I, Ian Gallagher," 

She nail pinched him when he just stared at her like she was an idiot. "Ow, ffffー fine. _Fine_. I, Ian Gallagher," 

"Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois," 

"Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois," 

"Am a big fucking hypocrite." 

Ian gave her a deadpanned expression, tipping her bowl of cereal onto her lap before getting up and going into his room.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains implied/reference to rape.

Mickey called it as soon as he told Ian the news that they couldn't spend the weekend together, but actually experiencing a morning without him was just so _fucking weird_. 

And what else was weird, but it also gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, was how he couldn't really imagine what life before Ian Gallagher woke up next to him in his bed was like. 

Ian had stayed over on the Friday but was gone by the time Mickey woke up Saturday morning. His side of the bed (and that made Mickey's cheeks heat up that Ian had a fucking side), was cold when Mickey roused awake around eight.  

And he felt very sad and lonely. 

He didn't care if this was probably one of the gayest shit someone can do, but he shuffled over onto Ian's side, smelling his pillow and inhaling the scent that drove him nuts. 

Mickey was stupid to believe all the lovely dovey romantic bullshit, but it really did smell like Ian. 

His whole entire _bed_ smelt like Ianー maybe _he_ smelt like Ian. And that was something he knew he wouldn't mind a damn bit. 

It wasn't like Mickey was going to hate the weekend, it was now just going to suck a lot more than it normally would now that he knows what life with Ian felt like (which felt fucking great by the fucking way). 

Two whole days without him was something Mickey knew he wasn't going to enjoy, and he'd be fucked if this ever ended up being something permanent. 

The possibility of them breaking up hasn't crossed his mind onceー it was clear now that Ian wasn't here how deep Mickey had fallen. 

This was bad. 

So _very_ bad. 

But he knew they wouldn't break up over thisー he just hoped Ian trusted him enough to wait until he was ready. 

Right now he wasn't ready. 

He wasnt ready to tell Ian he had a kid. 

Especially tell him how his son was conceived.

*

After Mickey took a shower and aired out his apartment, he started cleaning. There wasn't much shit to cleanー just placing back things where they belonged or hiding stuff out in plain sight. The only thing he and Ian used was the bed and bathroomー the couch was just sat on and the dining table was always cleaned after dinner. 

Mickey managed to get a load of washing in the apartment's laundromat all nice and clean, using the dryer afterwards since it looked like it was going to rain.

As if Mickey wasn't already depressed enough. 

And he hated thisー how fucking _needy_ and attached he was to Ianー codependent if anything. It was like he could no longer function right when Ian wasn't around. 

A fucking loser! 

But for the most part, he didn't care. He and Ian just _clicked_. 

Maybe he did care a little because right now, he can't be the clingy boyfriendー he needed to be the doting father. 

Mickey loved his son, and if circumstances were different, he would like to have the kid around more often. 

He wasn't on bad terms with his baby mama, they both just wanted different things. Like she wanted a husband and he... well, also maybe wanted a husband too. 

Mickey and Svetlana's relationship wasn't strained or anything; just awkward. And his relationship with his son, Yevgeny, could pass as _normal_ for their abnormal situation. She didn't bar Mickey or Yev from seeing each otherー it was just that they were on opposite sides of the tracks. 

And it was usually when Svetlana was really swamped with work and she can't get anyone to babysit, she'd resort to dropping Yev off at Mickey's. 

She hated how Mickey, the father of her kid, was a last resort rather than a first. And to some certain extent, Mickey hated it too. But they both knew it was all for a matter of convenience. If Svetlana was going to be a few hours late on her shift, it would be easier for a neighbour to look after Yev instead of driving across town to drop him off at Mickey's. 

But there was no neighbour this time, so a father-son weekend was what it was. 

Mickey just began folding his clothes when Svetlana and Yevgeny arrived. 

She gave him a tired look and he just knew the weekend was going to be a long one. 

*

When it was _finally_ Monday, and Mickey was relieved of his fatherly duties, as soon as he woke up, had a cup of coffee and brushed his teeth, he made his way over to Ian's apartment. "Hey." 

"Mick, hey." Ian said, surprised to see him. 

"Sorry, did I wake you?" The brunet asked, shifting on his feet. 

Ian stood by the door, kinda just staring at Mickey as if he was stunned. "Uh, no. No. I was just in the bathroom." 

And Mickey would've been offended by Ian's reaction had he not felt the exact same way the redhead was feeling.

It was sort of like the feeling someone got when the fall in love at first sight. 

Sort of. 

"I missed ya." Mickey said after a moment of them just staring at each other. It was only two days but they're acting like it's been _years_ since they've seen each other. 

They were pathetic little puppies in something kind of like love. 

Ian gave Mickey a once over, like he needed to check his eyes to see if he was _really_ there, before his mouth broke into a wide smile. "Fuck, Mickey, get in here." He said, pulling Mickey into his apartment. 

Their lips crashed against each other's in a desperate heat; hands roaming and tugging at each other's clothingー wanting to strip them off but not really making much of an effort. 

When Ian fell back against the couch with Mickey on top, that was when they both snapped out of their trance and broke out in laughter. 

"What the fuck are we, teenagers?" Mickey questioned their behaviour as Ian tried to reduce his laughter into a containable giggle. 

"Shit, man. That was the longest fucking weekend ever." Ian remarked, smoothing back Mickey's hair. 

"Really? Flew by me." Mickey teased, knowing the sentiment. 

"You deal with your... shit?" Ian asked and Mickey nodded. 

"Shit had been done and dusted." Mickey said. "Thanks for understanding, Ian. Means a whole fuckin' lot." 

"I'll trust you'll tell me when you're ready." Ian said, pulling Mickey back in for a kiss. Now that their formalities were out of the way, Ian kissed his boyfriend slowly, gently, in complete contrast to how they were kissing a few moments before. 

Mickey felt himself melting into the heat of their tongues sliding against each other, not even caring how this got him hard almost instantly. 

He rutted his clothed dick against Ian's thigh shamelessly, earning himself Ian's hands clenching his ass. 

"Fuck, that feels good." Mickey sighed, hips now rolling. Ian groaned, softly biting Mickey's bottom lip before running his hands firmly up from Mickey's ass and under his shirt. 

He removed the brunet's shirt in one swift movement, letting it fall aimlessly on the ground. In turn, Mickey pulled at the drawstrings of Ian's sweatpants, loosening the offended clothing. 

He didn't have time to shove them off Ian as the said man pulled Mickey in for another deep kiss.

"Ian, Ian," Mickey gasped in between breaths. "Fuck... _Ian_."

"Yeah, Mick?" 

"Are we gonna bang?" He asked, mind hazy with pleasure. The haze quickly disappeared though as soon as Ian withdrew back. 

"Oh, um." Ian said. "Do... you wanna?" 

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You really need to ask me that?" He then looked down at Ian, suddenly concerned. "Do... you?" 

Ian grimaced; if Mickey hadn't stopped to ask, they probably would've fucked. But now that the question was presented... "I don't know." 

"Oh." Mickey said. "Then it's a no." 

"No, Mickー" 

Mickey rolled off of Ian, shoving the redhead to move so he could lie down on the couch right next to him. "It's fine." 

"I'm being prudish again." Ian sighed. 

"Nah, man, be prudish." Mickey shrugged. "You're not ready, then you're not ready. No biggie." The brunet assured. 

"I wanna have sex." Ian said. 

"You sure?" 

Ian sighed. "No." 

Mickey shrugged again, leaning his head against Ian's chest. 

"You must be annoyed." Ian stated, stroking Mickey's arm. 

"It's whatever." Mickey said. "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I made you do something you're uncomfortable with." 

"I'm not uncomfortable with sex." Ian defended. 

"Right, you're just uncomfortable with _having_ it." Mickey mused.

"Um, excuse me, wrong?" 

"You're uncomfortable with having sex with _me?_ " Mickey asked and Ian wanted to cry. 

"No, Mick, I'm not uncomfortable, period!" Ian said dismissively. "And I'll have you fucking know, I am a fucking _pro_ at sex. A fucking pro. A pro at fucking!" Ian repeated, realising that double entendre. 

"Well, I wouldn't actually know, numbnuts." Mickey quipped. "Are you scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Dunno." Mickey said. "Things have been good between us, maybe just thought that you think sex will change it. Change what we have."

"What do you mean?" 

Mickey turned to lean on his stomach so he could face Ian. "Like, what if the sex is _so fucking good_ , we become crazed and obsessed and fuck until we die?" 

Ian laughed at how Mickey managed to say that entire sentence without cracking. "Or what if the sex so bad? What then?" 

Mickey made a dismissive noise, "If the sneak peaks you give me are any indication, I think sex would be really good. Like, _really_ fucking good." 

"Biased." Ian accused and Mickey smiled. 

"Guilty. Can you blame me though?" The brunet asked, eyes studying Ian's face. He leaned forward, kissing the EMT once. "Guess we won't know until we try. When you're ready of course." He quickly added. 

Ian rose a brow, "So you mean to say you're always raring to go?" He said, lips curling at the end of that sentence. 

"Ian, your fucking scent gets me hard, so yeah, I'm always ready for you." Mickey said, suddenly feeling a hot flush of embarrassment flood his system. 

"Aw, Mick, you're blushing." 

"Man, shut the fuck up." He grumbled. "Anyways," Mickey began in a different, more sly tone as he reached down and grabbed onto Ian's hand. "If you're not ready to stick your dick in me..." He brought Ian's fingers up to his lips, sucking them down and slicking them up with his saliva. 

"Hmm..." Ian watched as Mickey slicked up his fingers before guiding them down the waistband of his sweats. "Guess I owe it to you." Ian kissed the tip of Mickey's nose before pressing a finger inside of Mickey.

*

"So, you're not working today, and we have a few hours until my shift..." Mickey began as Ian busied himself in the kitchen rounding up snacks. "What do you wanna do?" 

Ian joined Mickey at the table with a packet of chips and dip. "I don't know." He tilted his head to the side in contemplation before the idea came to him like a flash of light. "Teach me something." 

Mickey's eyebrows narrowed. "Teach you... what? I ain't no fucking teacher." 

Ian laughed, cracking open the chips. "Sure you'll manage. I don't know, teach me how to bake something." 

"Bake something?" Mickey repeated as if he wasn't sure what exactly Ian was asking of him. 

"Yeah, Mick. Teach me how to make those profiteroles or some shit." 

"Oh." Mickey said in consideration. "Thought you thinking of some lame ass store bought boxed cake where you just shove eggs and milk and bam, that's fucking it." 

"Your inner baker boils at the lazy way, huh?" 

Mickey shrugged, "I wouldn't call it _lazy_ , more like easy." 

"I know, lazy." Ian cheekily corrected. 

Mickey cracked a smile, "Okay, sure. I'll teach you. Let's go get some shit."

The drive to the local grocery store remained uneventfulー it wasn't until they actually entered the place, did things get a little hectic. 

"Butter, flour, eggs, milk. The basics you need to make profiteroles." Mickey said. 

"I'm pretty sure I have all that shit at home." Ian replied, kinda surprised but also in awe at how the ingredients just come naturally to Mickey.

"Well, you're gonna need a lot of that shit which I doubt you have." Mickey grabbed a basket and gravitated towards the aisle that had what they needed. 

"Aw, have a little faith, would ya?" Ian pouted, tailing behind his boyfriend. 

"I checked your fridge, you wouldn't have enough." Mickey quickly ended that debate, inspecting the butter he picked up. Ian frowned, leaning his chin on Mickey's shoulder.

Just as Mickey was about to put the butter in the basket, all of the lights in the grocery store suddenly shut offー the refrigerators shutting down indicating that all electricity had been cut.

"What the fuck?" Ian said, looking around, suddenly hearing everyone else's voices in the grocery store as if the light had filtered them out until now. 

Mickey's brows drew together in confusion, waiting for some PA. 

_"Dear patrons, we apologise for the inconvenience. The storm outside had caused for this power outage and as a precaution, we have activated the shutters and effectively closed down the store to prevent any misconduct. Again, we apologise for the inconvenience and staff is currently working on rectifying the issue. In the mean time, please remain calm. We thank you for your cooperation."_

After the announcement, both Ian and Mickey turned to look at each other. 

"Was it raining on the way here?" Ian asked and Mickey shook his head as if to say he didn't notice. 

"The fuck do we do now?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure, but may contain transphobia.

"Aren't you just the  _least_ bit curious though?" Ian asked, scurrying behind Mickey as the shorter man scanned the eggs. It was hard to see in the dark store and his phone light did helpー what  _didn't_ help was Ian bouncing around like a little puppy trying to get noticed. 

It had been five minutes, a whole  _excruciatingly_ hard five minutes since the power cut off and the announcement was made. Now that the chattering seemed to have dim down (some weird human instinct people possessed; being quite when it's dark), the thunderstorm rumbling outside could be heard.

Mickey assumed it to be a power outage, something that should be quick to restore so he suggested carrying on as if nothing happened. 

Ian had suggested something else. 

"What's there to be curious about?" Mickey mused, half interested and half annoyed at this conversation. 

"Curious, excited, whatever." Ian hummed, holding the basket in his arm as Mickey dumped two dozen eggs inside. If the lights had still been on, Ian would've most likely questioned Mickey on why the  _fuck_ did they need so much egg for, but the redhead's mind had wandered and strayed into different territory. "Don't you wanna try?" 

Eyebrows drawn together, Mickey gave Ian a look that said  _what are you, fucking five years old?_

Ian rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Mickey was silently saying. "C'mon, Mick. It's not like this happens everyday. So why not take advantage of it?" 

"Makin' out in a grocery store isn't that big'a deal." Mickey said, moving down the dairy aisle.

"Making out in a  _dark_ grocery store, you mean." Ian corrected, as if the  _dark_ part made all the difference. 

In a way, it kind of did, but this childlike curiosity made Mickey rolls  _his_ eyes.  

"And it is a big deal," Ian said giddily, "It's like a once in a life time opportunity and we gotta  _take it_ Mick!" 

"What, this shit on your bucket list?" Mickey asked. 

"Yes!" 

"Really?" 

"Okay, no. But I'll add it on and tick it off, just kiss me, Mickey." Ian said, putting the basket down onto the floor before grabbing Mickey by the waist and spinning him around. 

He pushed the brunet against the shelves, slotting their lips together. Mickey sighed, humouring the redhead and returning the kiss. It was short, a little wet and all the while satisfying to Ian. 

"See?" Ian said in a low voice, wiping Mickey's bottom lip with a thumb. "Wasn't so hard?" 

"Mhm, sure." Mickey hummed, lightly pushing Ian to take a step back. 

Ian frowned, "What?" 

"No, nothing." The brunet shrugged, kinda just swaying on his feet. 

"Mickey..." Ian sighed, trying to piece the sudden shift in the mood. "Are you mad at me?" He asked. 

Mickey cocked his head to the side, "No, why would I be mad? It's just a kiss, ain't like we haven't done that beforeー" 

"No, I meant for earlier. At home. You know, when we were about to..." Ian didn't have to finish his sentence for Mickey to catch his drift. 

"No, no, Ian. I'm not mad about thatー said it was fine. You got me off anyways... I'm not mad. Not at that or anything, actually." Mickey found himself having to explain. 

"Then what is it? You have a vibe." Ian said, deciding not to beat around the bush and just come out and say what's on his mind. "You know, uh... angry vibe?" 

Mickey sighed, kind of getting what Ian was playing at. Mickey had two facial expressionsー happy and angryー all the sex faces were in the happy category and every other emotions were in the angry oneー embarrassed, shy, sad, whatever. So it made sense that he had this  _vibe_ that Ian wasn't quite ready to decipher yet. 

"I'm not angry just... I don't know man, confused?" Mickey offered. "One minute, you're horny as  _fuck_ , the next, you don't really wanna get off anymore. And I know that it's cuz you're not ready or whatever, and that's cool, I respect that... But then you wanna make profiteroles so we got to the store and now we're here, you wanna make out again. I'm just getting a lot of mixed signals, it's kinda hard to keep up. Don't know where your head is at, man." 

"Oh." Ian said, shoulders visibly slumping. 

"Hey," Mickey endearingly said, placing his hand on Ian's cheek. "It's... not a bad thing. I just wanna _get you_ , you know?" 

"Yeah," Ian nodded. "But you're right, I am confusing; I mean, when you put it like that, I see how it's weird." 

Mickey didn't know how to respond to that so he stepped in closer, pressing his lips back against Ian's and kisses his boyfriend slowly. Ian relaxed a bit, melting into Mickey's heat as he wrapped his arms loosely around Mickey's waist, pulling the brunet to press their chests together. 

Eventually pulling away, Mickey said, "We'll get there." Not really knowing what exactly he meant by that, but somehow they both just understood. "Find me some gluten?" 

Ian's eyebrows drew together, "Uh... gluten?" 

"Yeah. Gluten. We'll make some fondant." Mickey said, and it took a whole five seconds for the lightbulb in Ian's head to go off. 

Right. Profiteroles.

"Uh, sure. Okay. Gluten, I shall find." Ian said, detaching himself from Mickey and wandering aimlessly for this so called  _gluten._  

* 

It was about less than ten minutes into the blackout but already a lot has happened between him and Mickey. 

Maybe not a lot, but they have learnt a lot about each otherー or rather, Ian about himself. 

He wouldn't necessarily call it a  _wake up_ call, and Mickey could just be saying what he was saying out on a whim. He probably didn't even look too deep into Ian's strange behaviour but now it was pointed out to him, his heart was beating fast, and not in a good way. 

In his head, he decided he was going to schedule an appointment with the clinic and see if he needed any  _adjustments_. 

He was most likely being paranoidー he _knew_  he was being paranoid, but he liked Mickey. A lot. And it's because he ignored these signs, this shift in his own behaviour, that his past relationships didn't work out. And obviously the fact that those relationships got in too deep too fast and ended too quickly before they could really and  _truly_ begin. 

Ian was scared to go home, but more than that, he was scared to tell anyone he didn't know if he  _had a home_ to go back to. 

It's been too long. 

His family doesn't even know he's bipolar. 

"Ian?" 

Ian, upon attempting to inspect what he assumed where the gluten would be in the dark, whipped his head around at an old but familiar voice. 

"Trevor." Ian said, unsure if his voice sounded strained or surprised. Maybe both. 

"Haven't seen you in a while." Trevor said, looking Ian up and down. "It's been, what... two years now?" 

"Yeah. Wow. It has, I guess." Ian said. "You look good." He complimented as a way of good gesture. He wasn't entirely sure if their  _falling out_ over Monica's supposed funeral expired and now they were on good enough terms to chitchat. He's never had to talk to an ex out of the blue before.

"Uh, yeah. You do too." Trevor repeated, looking and feeling as awkward as Ian was. At least they were on the same boat. "How've you been?" 

"Good. Good. Crazy how the lights in this place just turned off." 

"Uh huh, yeah. Are you seeing anyone?" Trevor suddenly asked, eyes narrowed and intent. 

The question, to say in the least, caught Ian off guard, and the redhead blanched. "Uh..." 

"I miss you." Trevor said, taking a step forward as well as taking advantage of Ian's hesitance. "We had a good run, right?" 

The lights above them flickered all of a sudden but remained only just thatー the lights stayed off. But that was enough for Ian to snap out and get over the initial blatancy of the question, "I'm seeing someone." He quickly said as if to prevent Trevor from running his mouth. 

"Oh." Trevor said, clearly looking disappointed. 

"Yeah, um... His name's Mickey. He's... well, kinda my next door neighbour, sorta." He grimaced at how shitty his explanation wasー whatever, it didn't matter. Mickey was his boyfriend now, not only just a neighbour. "Been dating for a few months now. He's nice. I like him a lot." 

"You guys banged yet?" Trevor straightforwardly asked and Ian felt his heart skip. 

"Excuse me?" 

Trevor shrugged, "What? Curious to know about how the guy is in bed. The guy after me, of course." 

Ian's eyebrows drew together, not seeing the point of this conversation or where it's meant to lead. "Who says he's the only guy I've been with since you?" 

"He's not?" Trevor asked, but the way he said itー it was like he was baiting Ian to say  _yes_. 

And it was trueー Mickey was the only guy he's been in a relationship with since Trevor. 

Despite knowing he didn't have to answer, Ian, instead, said, "We haven't banged. Not yet." 

Trevor hummed, nodding as if he got some kind of vital piece of information. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "Well, you better get on that then, huh." 

"Fuck's that supposed to mean?" Screw formality; Ian did not like his tone. 

Trevor just shrugged, "I'm just saying, if you guys have been together for a few months without banging, the relationship won't last." 

"Who the fuck are you to tell me it wont last?" Ian puffed his chest out, getting overly defensive (and rightfully so). 

"Ian, hate to be apparently the only person who's said this to your face, but that's just it. Your face. You're nothing but a pretty face with a nice dick. And if you don't  _use_ that dick, I guaran _tee_ you your guy's gonna leave you. God knows your personality isn't good enough to keep someone in a relationship." 

Ian wanted to slap the shit out of Trevor right there and right then. The  _audacity_ to tell him he misses him then say he isn't worth staying in a relationship if he won't put out. 

His blood boiled. "Right, cause you and God are  _so_ closeー oh wait, how can you guys be when he put you in the _wrong fucking body._ " 

Trevor scoffed, "Wow." 

And Ian would feel bad about this later but in this moment, he felt triumphant for  _finally_ shutting Trevor up, even if for a second. "It doesn't feel good assuming I'd be okay with you shit talking about a relationship  _you're_ not even in." 

"You're just pissed cause what I'm saying is true." Trevor said, cocking his head to the side. "Cause I know you, Ian. You may think I don't but I  _do._ I know more about you than I have lead on and the fact that you're a pretty twink with commitment issues won't deter me. Not this time." 

"What?" Now Ian was  _definitely_ confused with the direction of this conversation. 

Trevor stepped up close, his chest almost touching Ian's. In a low voice, he said, "No one knows you like I do. At the time, I didn't get why you were so adamant on not taking me to your mom's funeral, but now that I've had some  _time_ , I think I get it. I think I get you. And whenever your  _guy_ sees he'll never understand you, I'll be waiting when he leaves you. And he's going to leave you." 

"Who says he's gonna do that? And you'd be fucking  _stupid_ to think I'd get back with you." Ian spat out but his voice trembled at how  _easy_ it was for Trevor to tear him down. Calling him things he hates. Assuming he knows everything. 

"Does he know you're bipolar?" Trevor asked. Ian's silence was enough of an answer and the youth worker smiled. "Call me when he drops you, my number's still the same. I know you haven't deleted it yet."

"Fuck you." Ian said as he watched Trevor walk away. 

It wasn't until the other man left his sight, did Ian feel like he could finally breathe. He let out a shaky breath; head dizzy from the encounter. Fuck the glutenー he needed to get back to Mickey  _right now_. 

They may have been together for a few months; known each other as friends a little longer than that, and Ian knew there were still a lot of things they had to learn about each other. But what Ian  _did_ know was that he felt calmer; he felt  _safer_ when he was with Mickey.

He needed to find his boyfriend. 

But when he did find Mickeyー in the same aisle he left him inー he was not alone. 

Mickey stood by the dairy products talking to some guy of Hispanic descent; tattoos littering his skin, head shaved almost bald. 

To Ian, the guy looked like a no good thug, ready to start trouble, and Ian had the urge to just march over there and  _snatch_ Mickey away. 

But then Mickey started to smile; laugh even. And Ian's chest tightened uncomfortably. 

Trevor's words swam in his head. 

_He's going to leave you._

_He's going to leave you._

_He's going to leave you._

It was like everything Trevor had said was immediately coming true, unfolding right in front of him and Mickey looked so  _happy_. So comfortable. And the thought that this  _guy_ was blatantly hitting on  _his man_ didn't even deter him. 

All Ian worried about was how helpless he felt to stop it. 

Apparently, the redhead had been staring too intensely at the scene that the Hispanic man noticed, said something to Mickey that made the brunet turn around. 

Mickey gave Ian a soft smile before turning back to the other guy, pressumably to bid farewell. The tatted guy left and Mickey turned back around, walking over towards Ian. "Hey. You get the gluten?" He asked. 

"Who were you talking to?" Ian asked and Mickey visibly flinched. Not at what Ian asked but the  _malicious tone_ he asked it in. 

But the brunet quickly recovered, "That wasー" 

Suddenly, all the lights in the grocery store switched back onー the refrigerators powering back up and the store music softly played in the background. 

Both Ian and Mickey looked at each other, wary of the shift. 

It was like the blackout was a pauseー nothing in between what happened when the lights were out existed now that they were back on.

Ian hated this.


	26. Chapter 26

Mickey knew what this wasー this radio silenceー and what it meant. 

Other than the fact that it was  _super fucking awkward_ in the car ride home from the grocery store, Mickey knew it didn't have to be.

He had nothing to hideー well, this wasn't something he felt like he needed to.

He wasn't sure, but something was weird and off when the lights powered down; Ian was acting strange coming back without the gluten and Mickey had so stupidly decided it was better to just continue gathering up the stupid ingredients when the lights turned on as if Ian never caught him talking to another guyー affectionately, if he really read into it. 

Mickey just felt like this wasn't a conversation meant for the grocery store. 

"His name's Damon." Mickey began when they reached a red light. The rain had been pouring down just as they got back into the car. "The guy I was talking to, his name's Damon. Guess you could say he's my best friend." 

"Best friend?" Ian asked, side eyeing Mickey. 

Mickey shrugged, "We did date. Back in high school. But before we were... boyfriends, we were best friends." 

"Oh." Ian said, shifting the car out of park and driving when the lights turned green. 

"Yeah, we were just catching up. Haven't seen him since I wasー well fuck, since I was eighteen; since I moved into the apartment I'm in now." Mickey said, laughing at how absurd it soundedー best friend who he hasn't seen in seven years. A joke. "He's married now, got kids." 

"Closet case?" Ian asked, trying to lighten the mood, or at least let Mickey know he wasn't trying to be difficult or closed off. 

Mickey shook his head, "Bisexual. Open. His family was... Well more accepting than mine." 

This wasn't a story he told many peopleー in fact, he hasn't actually told anyone this before. Only his sister knows, and Damon. And he felt like when the times comes, when the moment called for it, it was something he should tell, he's learnt. 

 _"Because Mick, it makes it real. And you can't pretend that it's not because it is and as much as you have every right to wanna forget, it'll make you believe what happened was okay. And it's not okay. It will never be okay and you need to remember that. So tell people when it's time to tell people. Make it real."_ Mandy had once told him. 

And she was right. 

He just hasn't found anyone he felt comfortable enough or cared enough about to let them know this side of him. 

That is, until Ian came along. 

"I'm Southside, if that shit wasn't already obvious. And judging by the look on your face, you probably know where this is going." Mickey huffed, looking down at his lap. 

Ian didn't say or do anything. He remained passive, driving them home in the downpour. 

Mickey was grateful for that so he continued, "Me and Damon go way back, our families kinda know each other too. They weren't buddies or anything, but were on good terms. His pop and my dad knew each other. Did business, but didn't really have each ofher's backs. Whatever, me and Damon, we met, hit it off and got close. Real close." Mickey said, letting Ian infer what that meant. 

"Senior year, we started dating. Fooling around, all that crap. And it was good. It was fun. It was easy and peaceful. Till it wasn't." Mickey let out a long sigh, biting his lower lip as he relived the memory in his head. It was tough, he hated how his hand shook at the memory. And he was about to carry on after a minute's silence when Ian carried the story on. 

"Your dad caught you guys, huh?" Ian asked softly, placing a supportive hand on Mickey's knee when the brunet nodded once. 

"Worst day of my fucking life." Mickey said, staring at Ian's hand; the way his thumb rubbed against the denim of his jeans. It was comforting. "Beat the shit outta me. He let Damon goー didn't wanna start beef with his family, but once he left... Thought I was gonna die." 

"I'm so sorry, Mickey." Ian said, turning to look at Mickey with sad eyes. He didn't noticed they reached the tenant's parking lot of their apartment buildings. 

"It happened a long time ago." Mickey said as his way of assuring Ian he was okay. And he was okayー he was just feeling so vulnerable right now, it was scary. 

"...What happened after that?" Ian hesitantly asked, not sure if it was his place to know. 

Mickey gave Ian a tight lipped smile, "My dad died two months later in jail." 

Ian did not expect that. But once that settled in his mind, his thoughts scrambled to piece together the words Mickey left unsaid. 

Mickey somehow caught onto the conclusion Ian drew for himself and punched out some words, "I don't... I don't want you thinking the same thing I thought seven years ago, Ian. Damon... He's notー he didn't... I can't explain it and I don't think I can make you understand in a way that doesn't make me seem like I'm _so fucked_ in the head that I don't know how wrong it wasー and I don't want you thinking badly of me because I accept what happened and what he didー or what his family might've doneー"

"Mickey," Ian said firmly, cupping both of Mickey's cheeks in the palms of his hand. "Breathe. It's okay." 

Mickey stared at the green of Ian's eyes, letting himself fall under the spell as he did what Ian instructed him to do. And when he gained his bearings, he said, "I never... truly forgave him. He tried to make things betterー got me my apprenticeship, the apartment I'm in... He looked after Mandyー I just couldn't stay at home anymore. Wanted to believe that what happenedー if he killed... or whatever... if it was for the best. I don't know. Please don't run away." He added the last part softly, staring holes into his lap. 

It was silent in the car. 

The only thing they could hear between them was their soft breaths and the rain pelting down hard on the metal of the car. But Mickey could also hear the harsh beating of his heart in his earsー a sickening feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, not knowing exactly what this means but knowing damn well enough this could be over. 

"It's fine if you wannaー" 

"I haven't seen my family in seven years." Ian interrupted, causing Mickey to snap his head up to look at the ginger. Ian was staring out the windshield, looking melancholic. "I guess you could say I ran away when I was sixteen to join the army." 

Mickey didn't know what to say, him now being the one to not expect that. Still, he tried, "Aren't you supposed to be eighteen?" He stupidly asks and Ian laughs pathetically. 

Turning his head to look at Mickey, he said, "Found my way around that. Didn't stay long though, shit got hectic and well, I left." He shrugged as if leaving the army without permission was nothing. "My family never knew where I was the whole time. Or where I am right now. They still try to contact me through my old phone but I never reply. I don't know, I've thought about going back but... A lot of shit happened in between and then time just passed on and I feel like I missed my chance. That, and I'm so fucking ashamed of myself for making them worry about me like that. I even missed my mom's own funeral because of what a fucking coward I am. Are you gonna run away?" He asked, a sad smile on his face. 

Mickey took a moment for himself to soak that in. "My mom never got a funeral."

Ian exhaled shakily, "Yeah?" He asked. 

"Yeah." Mickey repeated. "Dad never gave her one. And I don't think I would've attended if she had one. I don't know, I was like, six." 

"Bad mom?" Ian tried. Mickey shrugged. 

"She left me and Mandy with dad." He offered. "Don't know if I can forgive her for that." 

"I don't think I can forgive my mom too." Ian smiled small, taking Mickey's hand in his. And the brunet held onto it tightly. 

"I'm staying here with you if that's what you want." Mickey said, looking at where their hands joined through threaded fingers. 

Ian nodded his head. "Then I'm staying here with you too." 

* 

It was inevitable that from the short walk into the apartment building (and the added fact that they had grocery bags they needed to fetch from the boot), that they would get wet from rain. However, this level of wetness was unaccounted for. 

It was probably like,  _ten seconds max_ that they were under the rain, but in that short time, they were  _drenched to the bone_. 

Luckily, their apartment buildings had elevators so they didn't have to experience the discomfort of climbing several mounds of stairs to get to Mickey's, but that didn't mean they felt any less uncomfortable. 

There was that silence again hanging in the space between them, but this time it was companionable. Like there was a mutual understanding that maybe there was a lot of things they had in common beyond the surface. 

They both had their issues, they both had their histories. 

And they were slowly but surely getting into deep with each other. 

It was kinda scary but also exciting; Mickey never knew his next door balcony neighbour would be more than just thatー a balcony neighbour. 

And today, they have unlocked something about each other. 

Placing the plastic bags of the things they bought at the store on top of the counter, Mickey began kicking off his shoes, "I'll find you something to wearー" 

He was abruptly cut off by Ian spinning him around and planting his lips onto Mickey's, pushing him against the counter. 

The brunet was shocked by the sudden gesture but immediately melted into the kiss, wrapping his hands to frame Ian's head and pulling him in closer. Ian had his hands planted around Mickey's waist until naughty fingers peeled off the shorter man's shirt, tossing it carelessly off to the side. 

In turn, Mickey unbuttoned Ian's jeans, ripping the zipper down and shoving the obstructive clothing over Ian's ass. 

Ian chuckled against Mickey's lips at the eagerness, wiggling his hips and kicking his legs down to let the jeans pool around his ankles. Once he stepped out of them as well as his shoes, he picked Mickey up, holding by the waist and walked them over to the bed. 

Putting Mickey down onto the bed and soon joining him, they proceeded to remove the rest of their wet clothing until they were stark naked. Cold skin from where it had been touched by the rain soon heated up as Ian pressed his body against Mickey's, diving down to capture the shorter man's lips in his. 

"Get comfortable," Ian gasped, nodding for Mickey to lay properly on the bed. Mickey automatically complied, falling back into the pillows, spreading his legs apart for Ian to fit in between. Ian rolled his hips, rubbing their hard dicks together causing them both to let out shameless moans in between wet kisses until Ian moved back to sit on his haunches.

Grabbing Mickey's legs, he pushed them together at the knees before leaning them both over one shoulder. 

And then Ian started sliding his dick in between Mickey's thighs, rubbing Mickey's dick in the process with every slow thrust. 

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey whimpered as Ian started stroking his dick with his free hand. Mickey's own hands grabbed onto the pillows behind his head as he flexed his thighs, making Ian punch out a moan. 

"Shit, this feels so good..." Ian sighed, moving his hips a lot more faster, fucking Mickey's thighs with newfound strength. Mickey felt his cheeks head up at the debauched sight; Ian's mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were screwed shutー this alone could make Mickey come. 

"This gets you off huh, Gallagher?" Mickey teased, taking over Ian's hand on his dick. He started stroking himself in time with Ian's thrusts as Ian used his now free hand to hold onto Mickey's legs. 

"You get me off," Ian said without missing a beat, bending Mickey's legs slightly forward as he changed the angle of his thrusts, making the muscles in Mickey's thighs strain. 

Mickey huffed out in amusement, licking his lips and enjoying the slick feeling of Ian's dick moving fluidly against his skin. "Mhm, that's it Gallagher. That's it." He encouraged, smiling at the redhead despite the said man having his eyes closed as he chased his orgasm. 

Mickey didn't care about himself, not this time around. 

Neither of them were going to run away, so he figured they could take their time.

After all, they did have all the time in the world. 


End file.
